by J. M. Briggs
Gottfried swallowed and nodded, feeling the hole in his stomach opening wider. “Yes, I know.” They weren’t much of a secret.
“You’re right that we can’t let the hammer go to Berlin. It is far too dangerous.”
“But-”
“You need enough time to get to Paris. And you know what will happen to your family if they discover it is you.”
“You can’t-”
“I haven’t got a family to worry about,” Dietrich reminded him. He reached over and gripped his shoulder. There was moisture gathering in both their eyes. Gottfried knew he should argue and protest, but he didn’t know what to say. “They chase me for a bit, I make a show of getting rid of a case that the hammer is supposedly in and they don’t go after you and your family.”
“They may suspect anyway.”
“They might,” Dietrich agreed sadly. “But it is the best option. We both know that this artifact can’t reach Berlin.” Dietrich looked down at the case sadly. “I only regret that I’ll never know what it really was.”
The words confirmed that Dietrich planned to die. Gottfried’s throat tightened, but there was no real option. Capture by the SS would lead to torture and execution. It was all so ugly and he took a shuddering breath. He wanted to thank the other man, wanted to say something more, but in truth, they’d been together too long as it was. Dietrich held his hand out and Gottfried shook it gratefully. It was a mad plan that by rights should never work, but Dietrich might buy him enough time to get to Paris, check in, and get the hammer into the tunnels. They held their hands together for a long moment before Dietrich pulled his away.
“Farewell, Captain, meeting you was a bright spot in this whole business.”
“Thank you, Adalard.”
He wished they had more time to talk and plan, but they were out of time. Gottfried wished he’d been brave enough to speak with Dietrich on the boat back or during one of those chilly nights in Norway. If he had then they might have had time to make a better plan. Maybe even have had the courage to just throw the thing overboard and let it sink into the sea. Outside the noise was increasing as more passengers arrived. The train would depart soon and it would become a question of how far he got before the SS looked his way. Dietrich’s plan while suicidal might just give him the time he needed.
Dietrich turned to give him one last smile though it fell short of his eyes. The man’s hands had stopped shaking and he nodded. Then he put on his hat and turned up the collar of his coat before moving out of the car. The door shut behind him with a soft click and Gottfried collapsed into the seat. His legs were weak and his chest was too tight. There were no tears, but grief welled up inside of him. Gottfried regretted stealing the hammer for a moment, wondering why he couldn’t just keep his head down and ignore it. The hammer seemed to hum in response to his thought and Gottfried put the case on the seat next to him, unwilling to touch it any longer.
Time passed slowly and he avoiding looking out the window. He didn’t want to see if SS agents were coming or worse Gestapo. The sounds of Hamburg and the station washed over him like a steady tide of waves and then finally the whistle blew and they started moving. Gottfried looked out the window, but there were no officers and soldiers rushing to catch the train and no sign of Dietrich. A sigh escaped him and he offered a prayer to whoever might be listening.
He gave himself an hour of watching the countryside roll by. The trains wove in and out of small towns that were full of flags. In a few places, children ran after the train and waved up at it with dogs on their heels. Gottfried’s lips lifted into a tiny smile. At least all the good and innocence in Germany hadn’t been destroyed. Not completely. He inhaled and straightened up. No matter what happened now something would survive. The war might drag on years more, but at the end, there would be people to start rebuilding again. With any luck and wisdom, they’d all learn from the mistakes of the last post-war era and do things better.
Gottfried adjusted the small fold up table in the car and set his satchel on it. His hands trembled a little as he reached inside and retrieved a pen and a sheet of empty paper. He spread it out in front of him. There was one more thing he needed to do, one more thing that needed to be done just in case. Swallowing, Gottfried looked out the window once more. The landscape was rushing by as they picked up speed after the latest slow down. His mind wouldn’t settle. Everything that could go wrong was running through his mind, but worst of all was the question of what happened if everything went right? Could he really just walk into his office the next day and act as if nothing happened?
The blank sheet of paper was taunting him. It was to be his last letter to his wife, to his children, but it couldn’t seem like he meant it was such. When the SS discovered the theft they’d go after Dietrich but would look at others in their expedition no doubt. They’d check on him and his last letter home. It couldn’t echo with a lost and sad sentiment. He picked up the pen and wrote his usual warm greeting even as his chest tightened.
Fear threatened to make his hands shake, but he managed to carefully write out a general greeting to his family. He wrote that he was on the train back to Paris and expressed his wish that he could have stopped to see them in Cologne. The words began to flow a bit easier and he wrote about being grateful to be home in Germany and about how lovely everything looked beyond the window. It was wistful but hopefully, would echo his love for his country to anyone who might come and read the letter.
The train jolted slightly as they slowed for the next station and the case with the hammer knocked against his hip. Gottfried reached out and steadied it on impulse, but the thrum of electricity seeped into his fingers. He looked down at it. This was so crazy. He almost laughed, but his chest shuddered with a growing sob. Tightening his fingers into a fist around the pen, Gottfried struggled to breathe for a moment and was grateful he was alone. The reality of what he’d done was settling in. As much as he wanted to hide the hammer and return to his life it wouldn’t happen that way.
He would die down there. Gottfried knew it in his bones. To find a truly good hiding place he’d have to wander for hours, maybe even days to get away from the path of the resistance. He’d have to the keep the hammer away from them too. Once it was hidden he doubted he’d ever find his way out. Swallowing, Gottfried trembled with fear. Yet he was filled with a strange sense of pride and accomplishment as well. He just hoped that Dietrich’s sacrifice would be enough to keep his family safe, he hoped that with every fiber of his being.
31
First Attempt
Alex wasn’t so sure about this now. It had seemed like a good idea, well no the only idea, when they’d left for Paris. With the Iron Chain in the hands of the Queen and Arthur, they could use the power of the Iron Realm itself and bind other Sídhe creatures to their will. Alex still wasn’t sure just how far that power could extend, but she didn’t want to give them any longer.
The goal was to break the spell, but Alex couldn’t help but feel nervous as she followed Merlin into his back yard. The thick lilac bushes and fence hid them from any curious neighbors and created a sense of isolation, but it just made Alex wish the others were here. Mjǫllnir was paradoxically heavy and light in her hands all at once and seemed far too large for her. She imagined that Thor must have been a large man with bright red hair through that image didn’t feel right.
She adjusted her grip on the hammer, trying to sort out what she had to do. This wasn’t the same as before when the Sídhe had been present. Somehow she needed to reach all the way to the Iron Chain and break the connection to all the Sídhe creatures. That or destroy the Iron Chain. Neither of those really sounded that possible now.
“Try not to worry,” Morgana said next to her. The older mage reached out and gripped her shoulder gently. “This is the first attempt.”
“You think there’ll be more?” Alex asked nervously. The reassurance helped a bit but made her wonder how many times she’d be attempting this.
“Alex you’re turn
ing the magic of one magical artifact against another, the Iron Hammer against the Iron Chain. This isn’t a simple thing. Merlin and I don’t know what to expect here.”
“So what should I do?”
She turned her head to watch Merlin come out of the workshop. He was carrying a length of iron chain that looked solid but lacked the magical quality of the real Iron Chain. Alex frowned as the chain clinked with every step, but stayed silent. Merlin offered her a slight smile and dropped it on the grass with a thunk.
“I thought it might help you visualize,” he explained. Merlin actually sounded a little sheepish and Alex smiled. “This is different than anything you’ve done before.”
“That’s not completely true,” Alex said. She looked over towards the patio set where Timothy was balanced on the back of a chair. “I’ve done it before once.”
“Yes,” Morgana said a bit slowly. The older mage sounded uncertain but rallied quickly. “Would it help for Merlin and me to release magic for you to use?”
“Uh, no not yet,” Alex answered uncertainly. “I’m not sure how this will work just yet.”
Merlin and Morgana exchanged a look that left Alex feeling even more uncertain. Yet neither of them argued and they both took a step back to give her some space. Sitting down on the grass, Alex lowered one hand to the ground. The blades of the grass tickled the palm of her hand, but Alex pushed past the distracting sensation. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, trying to meditate and calm herself. The world tilted a tiny bit as a jolt of vertigo hit her, but Alex could feel the spark of power beneath her heart beginning to pulse. Under her fingertips, a small wave of energy began to lap at her fingers. Alex almost smiled as she tugged gently at it and her own magic. Both began to flow up her limbs, filling her body with a rush of warmth and a pleasant tingle of power.
Alex tried to stay still as she carefully pushed a small spark of magic into the hammer. There was a rush of magic out of the metal and it began to hum in her hand, sending small jolts of electricity up her arm. Inhaling slowly, Alex was hit by the smell of ozone and shivered at the tingle going down her spine. It was different from holding Cathanáil had been, but despite the size difference between her current hand and Thor’s the hammer seemed to fit. Looking down, Alex finally smiled as the metal began to glow a dark gray color though the triskelion symbol took on a bright, almost white, blue color.
“The color of Thor’s magic,” Merlin offered from the side.
Alex nodded in response, not feeling any surprise. The blue color was fading quickly as the gray magic seeped into Mjǫllnir. Closing her eyes, Alex focused on the flow of magic she could feel. Her own magic was pouring into the Iron Hammer while older stored magic was flowing out into her limbs. Alex’s eyelids tightened and her brow furrowed as she focused on her goal of collecting the energy into one location in front of her.
Slowly she opened her eyes and sighed in relief. An orb of glistening gray magic was hovering before her. There was only the tiniest glow from it. There was no command for it to give light, it was just waiting. Magic gathered and waiting for a command. In the corner of her eye, Alex could see Merlin beaming and Morgana thoughtfully studying the orb. More and more magic was being drawn into it and Alex’s vision went a bit hazy.
She could now see small glistening strands in the air like spider silk wafting in the sky. They were difficult to make out, but as she focused on them the soft hint of color became clearer. Tiny sparks gathered together, flowing out of the trees, sky, and ground to form the white, green and, blue strands. As they flowed into the large sphere Alex’s own magic seeped into them.
Alex pushed the gathered magic out slowly as she envisioned a fog spreading out around her. Sinking her fingertips into the dirt, Alex swallowed and focused on the Iron Chain. Sending her magic out, Alex ordered it over and over again to find the Iron Chain. Her chest tightened as the magic stretched out and she held in a grimace. She was being pulled and stretched out in too many directions. A soft huff of pain escaped her and she closed her eyes, focusing all her might and will on the Iron Chain.
The blackness of her inner eyelids began to brighten. She was beginning to see something and pushed the magic towards it. Vertigo hit her and Alex gasped for air, feeling like she just been pulled harshly. Her vision cleared though she didn’t open her eyes. She could see the Iron Chain. It was draped across a table over rich dark purple fabric gleaming in the low light. There was no sign of Arthur or his mother. Alex tried to reach for the chain, but she couldn’t reach. Her chest ached as the magic stretched. She could see black lines shimmering off of the chain, reaching out into the world, and binding living creatures to the will of its holder.
Fighting to reach it, Alex split her focus into the real world. The weight of Mjǫllnir reminded of her purpose. Alex hoisted the hammer above her head, but the strands of magic twisting and turning through the air were too indistinct. She reached out her left hand and tried to grab one, pulling it closer, but it slipped through her fingers. Her legs trembled and her knees began to buckle. She swung the hammer down, trying to catch the chain.
It broke. Magic rushed back and struck Alex in the chest. Everything whited out. Distantly she heard screaming. Her throat ached and someone grabbed her shoulder. Mjǫllnir fell from her fingertips and she forced her eyes open. Confusion hit her, overpowering the pain radiating from her heart. She was sitting down on a lawn and looking towards a set of iron wrought patio furniture.
“Alex,” someone called. Alex frowned and tried to move away. “Alex!” She recognized the voice as Morgana’s now and started to relax.
There was a bottle of water at her lips, gently being tipped up and as the first drops hit her tongue Alex began to greedily drink. Someone was talking, but she was having trouble understanding the words. Shaking her head helped a little, but also sent a jolt of pain through Alex.
“Easy Alex,” Merlin said gently. He was on her other side.
Morgana gently took her arm and slung it over her own shoulder, helping Alex to her feet. Keeping her eyes down, Alex didn’t want to see any disappointment on Morgana’s face, but her teacher shifted slightly and kissed her forehead.
“It was a good try, Alex,” Morgana said. Her voice was warm and reassuring. “Rest now and we’ll try again later.”
Alex nodded but didn’t think it would help. Blinking cleared the last of the haze and Alex looked over at Merlin as she stabilized on her feet. He knelt down and picked up Mjǫllnir carefully. Morgana walked her to the back door and all but dragged her inside. Once they were in the living room, Morgana eased her into an armchair.
“Alex, are you feeling alright?” Merlin set the hammer down on the coffee table.
“I just… I couldn’t reach,” Alex groaned. “I can see a bunch of the magical bindings, but I just can’t reach. It isn’t like when they were here and those Sídhe were so close to me.”
Then Timothy appeared in front of her, leaping onto the table from the floor in a single leap. He pushed a mug of tea towards her and then picked the lid off of the cookie container. With large dark eyes, he looked up at her imploringly. Alex tried to smile and lift her arms to take one of the cookies, but they were too heavy. A flash of dark gray magic spun through the air and surrounded one of the chocolate chip cookies, lifting it out of the tin. It sailed to her mouth and a confused Alex took a bite.
“Well you’re physically exhausted, but all that magic is still inside you,” Morgana observed with a chuckle.
“There was some backlash,” Alex admitted uneasily. Her arm finally listened to her and let her hand come up to take the cookie. The gray aura around the cookie faded. Alex was aware of them watching her and swallowed thickly, grasping for something. “I thought our magic was supposed to be weird around Brownies.” Alex glanced over at Timothy who was already dusting off the mantel. “That’s what you said before.”
“And it is or at least it normally is,” Merlin agreed, sitting down across from Alex. “However I’ve been
observed Timothy and he believes that he is stronger now than before and I haven’t felt any reactions between my magic and his.”
“What does that mean?” Alex nibbled on the cookie nervously. “Do you know or have any theories? Was it because of what I did?”
“I believe it could be due to his exposure to the Iron Chain. While a darker incarnation of the Iron Soul created it, the Iron Chain was still connected to the power of the Iron Soul. Also, it could be due to you seeking to spare Timothy when you cast the blood spell. He may be in a state of grace within the area. I can’t say for certain, but those are the theories that have come to mind.”
“Oh.” Alex took another bite of the cookie and chewed it thoughtfully. “I’m not sure about this, Merlin. If there are side effects like with Timothy-”
“The Iron Chain cannot remain in the control of Scáthbás.” Merlin’s brown eyes met hers with an icy firmness in them. “She’s not a creature of the Iron Realm Alex and she’s caused so much havoc with it.”