Hellraiser, page 2
In the distance, a Romanesque castle jutted upward as if cut out of the surrounding mountains. It was nestled in between the dark clouds on the horizon. The banners of Hel flew.
“It would appear that she knows we are also on our way,” Harley muttered. He tapped his foot in tune with Garmr’s tail wag.
“Both of you calm down. The one thing that we have always been able to count on is each other. When there is despair, there is family to provide solace. Even when darkness is all that we could call home, we called it home together. We may be the family of outcasts, but we’ve pulled ourselves up. The darkness is now our shield, the cold our cloaks. The rage our swords. We are not the tainted ones, the forgotten ones, but family, love.”
Harley sighed, and she felt him ease. He’d carried on for so long, like a tired soldier.
“Does it matter?” Harley’s question made Hel pause. For a moment, his fairy skin shimmered like it did when they were younger before love had rooted between them.
The folk of fairies had existed throughout history, and throughout the worlds, but no courts were more famous than that of the Seelie and Unseelie.
Many might have considered it an unnatural alliance. It should be noted that courts of the fae were not that willing to embrace Harley’s return. The society had found a way to go on without its king of the Unseelie Court, despite the Morrigan’s divine blessing of his role. The Unseelie could be classified as chaotic neutral; they saw beauty in the overwhelming macabre, and through such divine intervention, love could blossom between the Unseelie prince, Harley, and the goddess of death.
His pensive gaze was filled with something she couldn’t decipher—was it a mixture of regret? After all these years, she still wondered how he’d actually died, despite figuring out the where and when, it was the why behind it. It took magic, godlike weapons to kill those of magic. Even if Grendel ran him through, Odin was the big bad bully, and she was ready to light him up.
“You know you wouldn’t be here without him,” Harley’s words cut through her thoughts.
Her smile spread, and a chuckle slipped past her lips. “Gods have always created the devil. However, I’m not a devil pouting about daddy’s lack of attention or love. Nothing will keep me from toppling him. Once you are back to full strength, we can then begin freeing the realms from Odin’s tyranny.”
Harley nodded his head. He was still lost, a little mad even. But the Black Wedding ceremony uniting them would ease all of that. There was more than one way to get Harley back to himself. “He’s pure evil; even dethroning Thor in the minds of those in Midgard.”
If nothing else, he still remembered the lore, the legends, and how the gods didn’t always play nicely with one another.
“My love,” Hel responded. “Surely the humans have forgotten how much they once loved and adored the god of thunder, who was out fighting giants, while Odin was out playing hide and seek with the witches and women of Midgard. He was too busy sheathing his sword to put up any sort of fight, and I am the evil one? Ha!”
The carriage pulled into the towering castle’s courtyard. The footman carefully opened the door and signaled with his hand, which she took. He was dressed in his slate-accented livery with a waisted coat. To his side stood Siegfried, Lady Hel’s personal servant, whom she’d sent ahead. He placed a kiss on the gloved hand. “It is good to see you, my queen,” he said with a bow.
“As it is you. I take it that all is in order?” She stared at him, waiting for an answer.
He stood again upright and nodded. “Yes, your highness. Her Majesty, Hekate, awaits you and His Highness in the conservatory for afternoon tea with General Einar.”
Things had not been going as planned in Midgard. The invasion was losing its sting and ground, and despite serving as a good diversion, it was almost time to bring in the next wave, as that with the allied elves seemed to have already run its course.
Having the general would bring a certain levity to the situation, including that of the ancient’s magic. It was said that when he lived with the Vanir, the gods of magic, he was trained in the ancient art of seidr, just like Freyja.
Stepping out of the coach, the gravel and ice crunched under Lady Hel’s black boots. With Harley on one side, and her faithful hellhound, Garmr, on the other, she glided through the courtyard, where the guards dressed in their black leather frocks, accented with dark dragon scales and iron, and tarragon-shaped ornamentation stood at attention.
“He’s surely afraid to lose it all. That’s his right…” Harley continued. He was still stuck on that of Odin, it seemed. Of course, Odin’s malfeasance acted at times like its own earworm, repeating over and over the nonsensical.
She’d learned a lot along the way. Men and their kind were easily forgiven. Their mistakes brushed under the rug. They spilled their seed under the guise of procreating, and women were just to take it? The bloodthirsty libertine ruled and quashed all who might stand in his way.
How was it that there was this movement for men’s rights like equality was a pecan pie, and there could only be so many rights, limited slices?
Yet, Odin didn’t understand that. Even with polytheism, and the beautiful pagan heart, he usurped every inclination for equality, almost daring one shift to henotheism, worshipping only him for the sake of the others. Heck, with Loki, all that was needed from Midgard was a shot of tequila on the altar or whiskey; Bragi enjoyed apples.
Odin liked bloodshed.
“They fear me, not because they don’t know what I am capable of. Before I received my crown, I knew I was a queen of epic proportions, able to bring change to the realms.”
Danger lurked. As she strolled through the soldiers, she kept her blades hidden under her sleeve. If Odin offered half of these men even just a day in Asgard, they’d attack. It was her job to give pushback. No one else would do it. But no one would stand in her way, not even those who pledged their allegiance.
The conservatory was bright, as light from the colorful Aurora Borealis crossed the shadowy mountains in the distance—this realm of ice and mist.
“Her Majesty, the Queen,” Siegfried announced, and those present in the room all curtsied and bowed.
“I see you waited for us, dear daughter.” Hel strutted over to Hekate, who sat with Einar, the Nibelung dwarf general, according to the medals on his uniform.
Dwarves were known for their artistry, and the magic that they could infuse in their weapons. It was rumored that he was kin to Austri, Vestri, Nordi, and Sudri, the dwarves who held up the sky.
Einar was strong, as evidenced through the way his uniform fit.
Although shorter than humans, the dwarf was not the size of a human child, but more of a short, brawny man. She’d spent enough time with those in Midgard to spot a killer, and everything about this dwarf said death.
Even the way his long, braided beard was braided in the traditional art of the Vikings before a bloody raid.
She liked that.
“New recruit?” Harley asked, and Hel squeezed his hand. His nervousness made her skin tingle.
“It is great to be in your presence, my queen. I’ve commissioned the greatest of weapons for you, which has been blessed by the Norns themselves.” Dwarves had crafted most of the deadly and enchanted weapons and tools used by the gods.
Great to now have one in her arsenal.
A dwarf blacksmith moved to her side, carrying a blade on white cloth as though in his hands rested the most precious of all creations.
“And what is your name, for I recognize you,” Lady Hel asked.
“I am Lit.”
She scrolled through her memories. If anyone had a reason to be upset with those in Asgard, Lit did. Thor, upon hearing of Baldr’s passing, had kicked him into the funeral pyre.
“Does your prize weapon have a name?”
“Of course. I call it the God Killer.”
That was just what she had in mind.
4
Sif
Under the blue sky, it was almost as if the small creature that crawled around on the red diagonally placed bricks called out to me. The spider, a spider like no other. She was beautiful, albino white. I scooped her up in a Mason jar that contained a twig or two, some dirt and rocks, and screwed on the punctured lid to ensure ventilation—and took her to my room, which was plastered with Michael Jackson posters and littered with dolls and stuffed animals waiting for me to teach them. I placed the jar on top of my wooden dresser and leaned on my tiny hands to watch her scurry around.
The spider… that beautiful white spider.
Voices whispered in my ear: one demanded that I release her, while the other said that she could forever remain my pet. But she was a spider, and her beauty, no matter how breathtaking, could never truly belong to me.
With all the grand books, like Charlotte’s Web, I wanted to name her Charlotte to care for her, but a small clear voice told me that she had to be set free.
I watched her for a day and then upon the rise of the sun, I took my jar in hand and ogled her. There, she still held on spinning webs. My small legs carried me back down the steps to the quaint backyard. Twisting the lid open, I released the glorious white spider, for now, she could be free.
Instead of climbing away, she scurried out of the jar, on top of the glass to my hand, which I then held up to my fingertips. Her small jaws bit into me, and the jar crashed to the ground. I jumped backward and stared at the mark she’d left, and therein on my middle finger, the mark shimmered and then was soaked into my skin. A twinge of pain traveled up my fingers, and rapidly up my arms, into my neck until it felt as though a barbed-wire-wrapped bat had slammed into my head. I collapsed onto the grass, and my body convulsed.
This was the first time I saw the world that existed beyond my vision, and that spider took the form of a woman, beautifully draped in a chiton, and wearing a gleaming gold helmet.
“When you most need me, then I shall heed your call.” She placed her hand on my head, and the images quickly flipped, and I could make no sense of it. “Strategy does not require one to act first but know how to respond with due measure.
When I awoke, the spider was there again. I could have sworn she said “thank you” by the way she stopped to look back before she scurried away, or maybe it was the symbol she’d left in the webbing, one that I’d never forgotten, a magnificent owl.
* * *
I’m the only one who can save the realms.
Death makes you remember long-gone things as if my life was on a highlight reel, and I saw all of those moments.
Like a lucid dream, I stood outside of the shell of my body and watched those gathered: Thor, Loki, Heimdall, Chi in her ghostly form, and Vali. The elven room with its golden and marble immaculacy was only dimmed by the circumstances.
Thor’s amulet still rested around my neck, hidden under my clothes, but I knew it was there. Even now, through it all, I still seemed to align myself with him.
We’d taken a big hit with our last skirmish, and now Chi was dead, but at least partially present in her ethereal form, and we’d picked up two new members to help us fight back against Lady Hel. I guess that was what you could call all of this.
Heimdall carried Chi’s body, which he must have gathered after taking me off to safety.
What unfolded resembled a hectic and terrifying ER visit without all the machines beeping. Instead, the chaos mixed with raised voices, clashing as each sought to find a way to treat me. Their voices were heavy, weighing me down and pushing me further into the darkness that rested just outside the scope of my vision.
Moments of blackness with intermittent pops of color and clear vision, I watched Thor pull me to him. He cradled me in his embrace as if I were one of his mighty goats. He wiped my brow and then raised his hammer.
My body reacted like he’d hit me. I convulsed and shook as the trembles moved through me.
“What are you doing to her?” Loki snarled.
A part of me would have smiled and enjoyed his protectiveness if the pain hadn’t been such burning, like hot grease searing off my skin.
“She’s having a seizure,” someone shouted.
“No, she cannot take the holy blessing of Mjolnir,” Thor muttered. “It is Hel’s poison. We must move her to Asgard, to Father. When we are there, we can heal Sif, and with the hallowing, raise Chi.”
I’d once heard the mighty tale of how Thor would use his hammer to resurrect his beloved goats, after killing them and eating their meat. Even more, I knew that as a fertility god—I mean, in some accounts, his mother was listed as Jord or Earth, but he was so much more. His hammer was also used to bless weddings, consecrate at funerals, and heal the injured.
He wasn’t a death god, like Freyja or Odin; and he wasn’t even truly a god of war, like Tyr. He was a protector.
As he held me tightly, it seemed so long ago that I’d wanted this god to see me: every lightning storm, every batch of thunder had a special meaning back then, back when he was a god, and I was just a mortal wishing on a star.
Those days were long gone.
My head rolled from one side to the other, and the pain-filled scream I heard sounded like my voice, just harsher, hoarser.
“She has to wake up,” it was Chi.
My concern drifted to Chi. How was it that she’d not passed on to one realm or the other?
Thor? Loki?
Nothing else mattered as the room morphed, shifting me to peer at the universe’s light and darkness. As if standing here, I saw all the worlds, the galaxies that shifted quickly by, until I crashed down onto the scorched indigo ground.
That was when I saw it: the large oak tree that burned. My gaze followed the tree’s trunk upward to see the worlds which its branches held. The flames danced along the bark, rising ever higher up the tree’s trunk.
With a loud rumble, the ground cracked open to reveal the three tree roots. The roots should have all been white, but instead, the first one was slowly turning black; the second was completely charred, and on the third root, a happy dragon gnawed at it until it was almost completely in two.
Unable to stop myself, I placed my hands on the burning tree but felt no pain. A large eagle screeched from the top of the tree, and flapped its wings, causing large gusts of wind.
The mighty winds did nothing to stop the tree’s demise. Instead, the tree began to weep; the squirrel that raced between the branches leaped off to its death, and the women at the base simply crossed their arms, bowed their heads and stood stone still. Although they said nothing, I heard two of their voices just as loudly as if they’d spoken:
This you must save. If Hel wins, we all perish. You must rise, dear sister. You are all of us. She wishes to poison the timeline. Race to save the crown. Race to save humankind, for only you can save the gods, and us all.
Out of thin air, my battleax appeared in my hand. Clenching its handle, I slashed through the air, separating the heads of the women from their shoulders. Then picking up each by their strands of hair, I tossed them toward the base of the tree into the fire. They would be the ultimate sacrifice to right this wrong. To capture the—
Just as quickly as the cosmic foretelling appeared, I was snatched away and pushed back into the human shell of a body.
Wet tears drenched my face, and large, thick arms held me tightly.
I could feel the poison coursing through my veins, inserted by one I’d once considered a friend.
Friends in this world were coming down to mean diddly squat.
In Thor’s arms, the cycle continued where I was yanked out of my body to only be pushed back. These shadows beckoned me until blackness was all I could see.
In this inkiness, I raced not away from something but toward what I wanted, what I desired most of all. It would be my precious, and all others would fall at my feet.
Panting, voices echoed around me anew. “Sif?” they all called at once.
I gulped down air and opened my eyes to see the motley crew now in my care: Thor, Loki, Heimdall, Chi, and Vali.
I’d always been reactive to this change. I’d always allowed myself to empathize with them, my friends, not realizing the cost of this painful path.
“I can carry her, you know,” Loki said.
“I don’t need you to drop her with your puny arms,” Thor countered.
“Puny? I can become whatever, at will.”
“Aye, but you will never be me.”
“Is this how you are all the time?” Chi huffed. “No wonder she’d rather be knocked out than awake, just to listen to this drivel.”
“What she needs is to finally name the bloody ax,” Thor huffed.
I had no idea what he meant, but the pain allowed me not to ask any questions.
Thunder rolled. Maybe it was an extension of him. Drops of rain fell from above.
“I think they are quite mad,” Vali chimed in.
“No more than any of the other gods.” Heimdall sighed. I could imagine him shaking his head. Surely, even he knew what was on the horizon. He raised his hand and paused. “Midgard is in a bit of trouble, but one that we cannot cleanse right now. First, we must ensure that Sif recovers.”
“Thor, turn off the waterworks,” Loki chastised. “We don’t need to slosh our way into Asgard’s gates.” The thunder grew louder. His fury was building. If things carried on, he might start smashing things. Thor wasn’t known for being patient or kind in that regard, but he also wasn’t malevolent.
“I have friends down there who won’t make it if we do nothing,” Chi cried.
“Aye, Chi, but an unplanned attack will only cause us to lose more than just a battle. Sif only paused the Dark Elves’ plans, but they will regroup. And when they do, it will be twice as bad.”
“How can it be twice?” Chi whispered.
“That you are still with us is a quandary in its own making,” Loki answered. “It would appear that death has not accepted you into her halls, and even the Valkyrie did not come to take you to Asgard. What a weird limbo.”
