The Hammer of Thor

by Aiki Flinthart

  Most importantly, there were a fifty or more tall, fair, exquisitely beautiful true elves. They lounged around three long, stone tables in various attitudes of remote disinterest. All wore long robes of shimmering, purple-blue material and matching looks of slight disdain on their elegant faces. It was difficult to tell if they were male or female, since they all wore their white-blonde hair loose past their shoulders. Only one also wore a thin silver circlet on his brow.

  This, the tallest of the elves rose from the table and approached her. It had to be the Elven King. Jade dropped instinctively into a deep curtsy, fearful anticipation stirring in her stomach as he came nearer.

  “Rise, child,” he ordered quietly.

  She stood obediently. Her head barely reached his shoulder. She didn’t dare look up but stared fixedly at the trees behind him. Long, white fingers reached out and tipped her chin up with a strength that belied their narrow, delicate appearance. Finally, she was forced to look at him.

  His eyes were so dark they seemed black but were actually a bottomless indigo-purple, set beneath pale, flying brows in a smooth, elegantly-boned face. Long, white hair divided around pointed ears so the front lengths, bound by decorative silver rings, fell onto his chest. Everything about him was cool, yet infinitely powerful; raw wildness restrained by vast intelligence. Where Aurfanon was Queen of the golden dawn, the Earth and new life personified; the Elven King was the glittering, star-strewn sky; the full moon; cold darkness with a taste of death in the final hours of night.

  Then he smiled gently and the whole aspect of his face changed. He no longer looked cold and frightening but calm and wise. Jade smiled hesitantly back. With a gesture for her to walk with him, he moved toward the table where an extra chair had now been placed.

  “Aurfanon mentioned you visited her in her home tree,” he said. “She also said your mother is Eleri, Spellweaver of the great Cyfriniol forest. Eleri daughter of Brychan the hunter. Is this true?”

  Jade nodded, wondering why he sounded so amused.

  The tall Elven prince turned and smiled down at her. “Of course it is. I can see the resemblance.

  She stared at him, astonished. How did he know her avatar’s mother? Before she could ask, the Elven King was touching two forefingers on each hand to his forehead, lips and heart.

  “I have been remiss, Jade gan Eleri,” he murmured and bowed slightly in formal greeting.

  She returned the gesture awkwardly. She’d never had to make the correct Elvish salutation before.

  “I am Arawn, Lord of Anoeth, the Timeless land of the Faery or, as the Svear people call me: Freyr, king of Alfheim – home of the Elves. I am also,” he led her gently to a chair between himself and Aurfanon, “your father.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Arawn? Her avatar’s father? After the initial shock wore off and Jade was able to close her mouth again, her first impulse was to deny it. Instead, she bit her lip to hold back the words. There was no reason to doubt him. How would a lie benefit him? She slid her eyes sideways to look at him. He gazed regally over the gathered Fair Folk below, apparently oblivious to the fact that he had just turned her life in this realm upside down.

  She shook herself, struggling to keep a grasp on who and where she was. Oh! Jade straightened suddenly, gripping the arms of her chair in amazement. Arawn was the King. Did that make her a real Princess and these her subjects? She looked out over the Faery hall, finding it incredibly easy to imagine living here with these extraordinary people. Something in their languid, arrogant joy appealed to her. Their assurance of their own superiority made it easy to believe she would be safe here. It would be so simple to walk away from all the unhappiness that had stalked both her existences; so easy to live a life of luxury and freedom here in Alfheim with her own kind. Surely not even Zhudai could reach her here, in another realm. She could be safe, free, wanted, accepted. Overwhelming excitement leapt in her heart only to be dashed a second later by the memory of Phoenix’s last, impatient words. She’s such a princess!

  Defiance lifted her again. She might not be a real princess in the real world but here, it seemed, she was a princess; or, at least, the daughter of a king. She wasn’t sure if being the half-blood daughter of the Elven king made her a princess or not. Her emotions fluctuated as she tried to get her head around all the implications of this new development. How would Phoenix and the others react when they found out? Phoenix and Truda already resented her. What would happen if she were invited to stay here? Could she be happy? Jade looked at the king again, longing to know him better. His pale, alien beauty seemed strange to her.

  A shaft of homesickness shot through her like a dagger. Oh, how she missed her real father; his gentle smile; his reassuring hugs. Then she remembered her mother’s constant criticism and her sisters’ merciless taunting and wasn’t sure what she wanted.

  Arawn turned to her and asked a question. She answered hesitantly but was disarmed by his very real interest. Almost against her will, he led her into a conversation. Time flew and she barely remembered eating from a fabulous feast placed on her plate. Before she knew it, Arawn had skilfully drawn most of her digital history from her. She had the uncomfortable feeling he saw far more than she wanted. As she relaxed, Jade found it ever harder to keep her two lives separate. Several times, she almost referred to her real-world father and sisters. Often she had to steer the talk onto safer grounds – such as botany or magic. He knew a great deal about both of these and she found his knowledge as fascinating as he was.

  When, as the evening drew to a close, Arawn finally did extend an invitation for her to stay as long as she liked in Alfheim, Jade gazed around at the exotic, brilliant, incredible, above all safe, Faery world and knew a very real, very deep desire to say ‘yes’. This was where she belonged.

  Then Aurfanon made an amused comment about Truda’s childish antics. The girl was dancing with the dryads. Jade’s heart dropped. How could she have even considered staying here? They had to get Truda home before her birthday. Ragnarok would destroy everything, Alfheim included. It wasn’t just her life she had to consider. It was everyone in this world, the other world, plus those of her trusting friends. Brynn, Phoenix and Marcus were still imprisoned in their rooms. They were probably worried and frightened, conscious of running out of time, while she wallowed in royal treatment. She was behaving exactly as Phoenix had complained: like she was better than they were.

  Disgusted with herself, Jade pushed the plate away. The rich food now felt like lead in her stomach. Every moment she wasted here, pretending this was a life she could be part of, was a moment she kept Truda away from her duty; put this world in jeopardy and her friends lives in danger. She might be happy here but she had no right to force the others to stay. Even if Phoenix seemed to get a kick out of playing the game now, he’d eventually want to go home.

  Reality was: she was responsible for getting her friends safely out of Alfheim and Truda to Asgard to prevent Ragnarok and the end of this world. Then she was responsible for helping Phoenix to progress through all the levels of the game so they could get home. This was not her real life at all, as much as she might wish it. Once the game was over, she would go home: back being nothing and nobody. She had finally found a place she belonged and she couldn’t stay. It wasn’t fair.

  Something her real father often said came back to her. He always asked it when she complained about how her sisters treated her. She would run to him for sympathy. He would listen closely and give good advice when she needed it. In the end, though, when it all came down to that age old whinge about fairness, he would smile sadly and say, ‘Why do you expect life to be fair, Jade?’ He was right. Life wasn’t fair or unfair – it just was. As he often said, it was how she reacted to things that made life good or bad.

  Resolutely, Jade turned to her Elven father. She touched him on the arm to get his attention. Again those indigo eyes bored into her, dark with secret knowledge.

  “You are troubled, daughter.” It was a statement
, not a question.

  “I have friends who need my help, my lord,” her throat tightened on the words. “I’m on a difficult Quest and they need me. I don’t want to leave but I have to. We must return Truda to her father in two days or it will mean the coming of Ragnarok. They need my help.”

  “Why do they need you? They are close. Can they not complete this quest without you?”

  Jade shrugged. “It is more than just this quest. There are three more to complete after this. I can’t abandon them. I’m a Spellweaver.” She grimaced, remembering her recent mistakes. “Not a very good one, though. I need my herbs and the forests for strength. Without them I’m not very effective – but I’m all they’ve got.”

  Arawn smiled slightly and sent her a knowing, sidelong look. “Your mother thought the same thing about herself. She was wrong, too. You underestimate yourself. You are capable of more than you realise.”

  Before Jade could ask what he meant, Arawn bowed his head to her. “Nevertheless, I expected this. You will always be welcome here, daughter; but I understand the nature of duty.”

  He stood with fluid grace and clapped his hands once. The music and chatter stopped. All heads turned toward the dais.

  “Good my people.” Arawn spread his hands wide, and then swept one toward Jade. “My daughter is on a Quest. As your Lord, I ask you to spread the word to all our kindred to render her any and all assistance possible. Perhaps,” he smiled faintly down at her, “she may return safely to us one day.”

  Jade stared at him, worried. When he sat again, she leaned over. “You can’t ask your people to help me, sir! We’re fighting a warlock – Feng Zhudai . He hates the faery folk and will do anything to stop me. His people have weapons of iron that will be fatal to the Fair People.”

  Arawn seemed indifferent. “We have helped the Bretons, the Svear and many others against invaders before. This will be no different.”

  “But it will,” she pleaded, laying a daring hand on his shimmering sleeve. “Please. All we…I need is to get Truda to Asgard and back to her father, Thor. Then you must promise me you won’t let your people risk themselves for us…me.”

  All at once, the King’s eyes were cold again. He drew his hand out from beneath hers. “You presume too much, daughter.” He held her abashed gaze for a moment longer before softening. “Jade, you are young. You undervalue yourself and overvalue me.” He touched her cheek, his fingers cool. “In memory of your mother, whom I loved, go with what help I can give you. Don’t argue.” He held up a warning finger when she opened her mouth. “We will arrange quick passage for you to Asgard.”

  Jade was beset by mixed emotions: joy that he refused to abandon her; fear that she might never see him again; profound sadness that she had to leave.

  Arawn saw and smiled gently. “Don’t distress yourself, child. Be strong. We will see each other again, I promise.” He drew her to her feet. “Take the godling child. It is time for you to sleep. Asgard can wait one more night.”

  *****

  “Where the heck are they?” Phoenix paced the room again, stopping first by the locked door to listen then by the dark window to stare out. Jade and Truda had been gone for hours. He, Marcus and Brynn had been politely locked into their suite of rooms, fed and ignored. It was frustrating, to say the least.

  Irritated, he spun to confront the ever-patient Marcus. The Roman lay comfortably on an ornate couch, his feet propped up on the arm, head resting on an embroidered cushion. Brynn had exhausted all the possibilities for escape and theft early on. The Elves, possibly aware of their youthful guests’ abilities, had made their locks unpickable and stripped the rooms of anything small and valuable. After complaining bitterly about their lack of consideration for an underpaid thief, he was now similarly sprawled on another couch nearby, twiddling tunes on his new bronze whistle.

  “How can you be so calm?” Phoenix demanded.

  Marcus shrugged. “There’s nothing else to do.” He sent Phoenix an ironic look. “Pacing and ranting haven’t helped, have they?”

  Phoenix blinked at him in surprise. Marcus seemed to be loosening up a little. It was as if their ordeal together with the trolls had triggered a new level of trust between them. He still wasn’t exactly talkative but flashes of humour and emotion showed through his guarded exterior now. Before Phoenix could utter a witty retort, which he admittedly hadn’t yet thought of, the door creaked open and Jade walked in with Truda close behind.

  Marcus uncoiled from the couch frowning at them.

  “There you are!” Phoenix strode over to the pair. “What’s going on? Did you find out anything? Can we get to Asgard from here? Will the king help us?” He stopped when he saw the distress on Jade’s face. What had happened?

  Truda skipped over to Brynn and began telling him all about the wonders she’d seen in the king’s hall. Phoenix and Marcus ignored her but Brynn was eager to hear everything, so the child was content to chatter to him.

  Jade sank onto the couch Marcus had just left. “A lot. Yes. Yes and yes,” she sighed.

  “Huh?” It took Phoenix a moment to realise she was answering his questions in the order he’d asked them. “The king will help us get to Asgard? Awesome!”

  “Yeah,” Jade sighed, “awesome.”

  Marcus moved to crouch before her, his frown deepening. “What’s wrong? Did they hurt you?”

  Jade dropped her head forward, so her face was hidden by a fall of white-blonde hair. She shook her head. A tear fell onto her tightly-clasped hands. Marcus covered them with his own as Phoenix stood by, feeling stupid and awkward. Why was she crying? Surely she should be happy that they were getting closer to the end of Level Two? She was the one who was so keen to get home. Girls!

  Turning away, he wandered toward Brynn and Truda. The child goddess still chattered on about all the Faery folk she seen; what they’d said and done. Marcus sat next to Jade, his arm around her shoulder. Phoenix tried to suppress a spurt of annoyance. Couldn’t the Roman see she was just being girly? All emotional and over-reactive – just trying to get attention. Overhearing Jade’s name in Truda’s talk, he listened more closely, while still keeping half-an eye on the others.

  Suddenly, one sentence caught his attention and he whipped about to face Truda and Brynn. “Jade is the king’s daughter!? She’s a real princess?” He almost choked on the word. Truda stared at him with those innocent, wide blue eyes and nodded.

  “Oh man!” Phoenix threw up his hands in exasperation. Fear and anger sleeted through him. This would be just what she wanted. She’d jump at the chance to stay here in safety. Anyone with half a brain would chose security over the life of fear and death they were currently living. She’d stay and he’d be on his own - again. Stalking over to the couch, he stood before Jade with his hands on his hips.

  “So you really are a princess, huh?” He shook his head. “I bet you’re pretty happy about that. Well,” he pointed one finger accusingly at her, “let me tell you something, Jade. I....”

  “No!” Jade jumped up, her face blotchy with tears. She poked him in the chest with one long finger. “Let me tell you something. You have no idea what I just gave up so you can play this stupid game.” Tears flowed down her cheeks and she dashed them away. “All you care about is swinging that sword around and being all macho. Well now you can keep doing it, so I hope you’re happy!”

  Snatching up her skirt-train, she spun away and ran to her bedroom door. It slammed behind her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The four remaining companions stood in a frozen tableau of shock for several moments. Finally, Phoenix looked around in bewilderment.

  “What did she mean?”

  Marcus groaned and sat down on the couch, holding his head. Brynn cast Phoenix a reproachful glance and turned away. Truda sighed and rolled her eyes at him.

  “Arawn offered to let her stay here.” The child said. “I think she really likes it here.”

  “I knew it!” Phoenix growled, anger burning in his guts aga
in. “As soon as I heard she was Arawn’s daughter. I knew she’d quit and..”

  “She said ‘no’,” Truda interrupted scornfully. “She turned him down.”

  He blinked at her, anger derailed. “Really? Why?”

  “I think you know the answer to that,” Marcus’ deep voice cut through Phoenix’s ranting. He tapped his chest significantly, reminding him of the linked amulets; another world; the real world.

  “Oh,” Phoenix slumped onto a chair, deflated.

  Truda huffed at him, yawned, excused herself and went into her own bedroom. Brynn and Marcus continued to sit, watching Phoenix as he struggled with his thoughts. He glanced up at Jade’s closed door. He knew he’d overreacted to the news of her noble status. He felt like an idiot now but he’d just been so angry with her: angry that she’d been so freaked out and unreliable recently; angry that she’d let him down; angry that she’d gone and died and scared the living spit out of him.

  It had felt just like when his father died. Being so reliant on someone else was frightening. He didn’t want to need her alive. Control of his own life again: that’s what he wanted. That was why he’d started this game in the first place. If you needed people you were vulnerable; it hurt when they left. When he’d heard Truda say Jade was a real princess, with a father and a family here, something in him snapped. He just knew that she was going to abandon him; that she was going to quit the game she was so scared of and stay here where it was safe. He’d lashed out, unthinking; impulsive; reactive as usual.

  Phoenix groaned aloud, realising how thoroughly he’d screwed up. He dropped his head into his hands, rubbing tired eyes with the heels of his palms.