by C. Gockel
From Loki’s left comes a whistling noise. Loki instinctively dives toward Nari, pushes him into the water, and then hunches over him. “Valli, get down!” Loki screams. Nari sputters beneath him, and Valli drops obediently into the muck beside them. Loki frantically begins scanning the dark forest for a place to hide.
Slipping the ring onto a finger, Nari starts mumbling, “The ring, the ring, it can amplify my essence … ”
One of the elves shouts, “To the right! Take shelter in the trees!” But then another whistle comes from that direction. A crossbow shaft pierces the armor of one of the elves. The victim’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops just before he falls backwards into the slime. Someone shouts, “The water! It’s interfering with our armor’s magic!” And someone else shouts, “We’re surrounded! Get into formation!”
Before the startled elves can move, Valli stands up with a roar, sword upraised. Loki’s heart sinks further in his chest. He’s been so focused on Nari he forgot about Valli and Kusanagi, the magical blade he’s wielding. “Valli, no!” Loki screams.
But it’s too late. Valli swings Kusanagi in a circle.The sword has the power to summon enough wind to knock over full grown men. Under ordinary circumstances, it would be the ideal defense. But the magic of the Delta of Sorrows twists the winds back toward the party. Before Loki can blink or move, Nari, Valli, Loki, their elven escort, and the black waters of the delta are being lifted off the ground by a wild tornado. For a few minutes that stretch on and on, Loki is hurtled through the air like a leaf. He sees nothing and hears only the roar of wind and muted screams.
And then he’s falling. He lands with a belly flop, cold water entering his mouth and nose and piercing his armor like tiny needles. He stands up. The world spins, and for a moment he thinks he’s still in the whirlwind. And then he throws up, acid and water spilling from his mouth. Squatting in the water, he closes his eyes and wills the world to stop spinning. Around him he hears moans, other people retching, and the slosh of water. He wants to puke empty his guts again.
And then another sound rises in the swamp. A hunter’s horn, perhaps two hundred paces away. Loki stands up fast. “Nari! Valli!”
“Over here!” Loki turns his head, and the world tilts sideways … they aren’t where they were before. He closes his eyes. Swallowing his bile, he opens his eyes to see Valli underneath a tree, jumping upward. Loki’s eyes rise to the tree. Hanging in the branches like a discarded scarf is Nari. His neck is bent at a strange angle.
Loki’s mouth gapes. No. Nari wears the scabbard of Excalibur … it should protect him from any injury. He blinks again and sees the scabbard hanging in a branch an arm’s length away from his son.
Loki runs through the water. “Is he alive?” he shouts. If his vertebra shot up into his brain, it could mean instant death.
In the tree Nari moans, some branches giving beneath him, and he falls a few hands lower. Loki quickens his steps.
“The ring!” says Valli, reaching toward Nari’s hand.
“Is cursed!” Loki shouts, knocking his son out of the way. He pulls the ring from Nari’s finger and slips it on his own.
“Help me get him from the tree!” Loki shouts, ignoring the humming power on his hand.
From behind him comes the whiz and thunk of arrows, and then the screams of the elven guard.
Loki jumps. Nari is still too high to reach.
“Father,” says Valli. “Father … ”
Loki’s just coiling his muscles for another jump when a voice rings through the forest. “Stop, Skywalker! If you want you and your sons to live.”
Loki freezes in place. Skywalker is one of the least offensive names that has stuck to him over the years.
In the tree, Nari groans. “Father … I cannot feel my legs.”
“If you want your son to recover, you will turn around, slowly,” the voice commands.
Loki starts to turn. “Hands up!” the voice shouts.
Raising his hands, Loki turns. He finds himself staring at a semi-circle of Dark Elves, their cross bows aimed at the throats of the now kneeling and bound Light Elven guard—and Loki and his sons.
The “Dark Elves” earned their names because of the lands they occupy; their complexions span the usual gamut of the elven people. Some are as pale as Loki, others as dark as Fire Giants. But where Light Elves are so perfect in build and face they are nearly painful to behold, the Dark Elves features are almost … human. Many do not possess the perfect symmetry of Elven faces. Others are scarred. Some are missing teeth. Some look old. They wear simple, nonmagical, leather armor. Their crossbows are not magical either. Even their magical auras are faint … except for one.
Among them, flickering with magic, is an elderly elf with long gray hair and a stringy beard. Where the others carry crossbows, he carries a staff. Picking his way through the muck, he approaches Loki.
In the air, Loki’s hand tightens on the ring. He’ll take the ring … and as much as Loki would love to be rid of it, he has given his oath to dispose of the thing. The old elf’s eyes follow the movement. “Have you come to poison our lands with more garbage?”
On his knees, one of the Light Elves mutters, “Not that you’d notice.”
He is promptly shot with a crossbow bolt.
Ignoring the splash of the elf’s body in the water, the elderly man hisses, “Well, Skywalker?”
“I’ve come to dispose of it in your volcano, Old Elf,” Loki hisses. “If you want its power—”
With speed belying his age, the old elf knocks the side of Loki’s head with his staff.
Loki sees stars in his eyes, and tastes blood in his mouth. In front of him, the old man barks, “I am not a fool. I do not crave its power! The Queen’s guard will return to their own lands. My tribe will escort you to the Mountain of Darkness.”
Wiping his mouth, Loki narrows his eyes at the old elf. He senses no lie, but perhaps it is the water interfering with his usual abilities.
There is a low muttering from some of the Light Elves. “You expect him to trust you?”
The old elf says, “Of course I do. I am an elf. And elves are perfect.”
The Light Elf snarls, “You are not true elves! True elves submit to the queen—”
A crossbow pierces his neck before he can finish. He falls face first into the water, its pearlescent surface now stained with rusty brown.
Kneeling in the water, his three remaining companions edge toward one another.
In the trees Nari moans. The old elf’s eyes flick to him. “We must get your son to dry ground, or the magic of the waters will warp his magic matter and cause it to heal his neural tissue incorrectly.”
Loki exhales. He senses no lie. His hands make fists at his side … and as Loki turns the Dark Elf’s prognosis over in his mind, he sees the logic in his words.
The old elf barks to the remaining Light Elves. “On your feet, and be gone, before we kill you all!”
“We are Light Elves!” one of the elves, a woman, protests. “We do not abandon our duty!”
The old elf snorts. “Your duty is now to tell your queen what has happened here. You are unarmed, your hands are bound … if any of you are to survive the Delta, it will only be by the efforts of all of you.”
Nari moans and Loki grits his teeth. At that moment, he wishes the old elf would just shoot the Light Elves and be done with it. Every moment Nari hangs in the trees is a moment when his magic matter may be twisting in his spinal column—ineffective, or worse, doing damage instead of healing.
One of the dark elves nudges a Light Elf with his crossbow. Standing, he says to his companions. “Come. The gray one speaks truth.”
The two murmur among themselves, Nari moans, and Loki has had enough. Hands clenching around the ring, he screams, “Move!” Flames jump in the water around the elves. They bolt to their feet and run as quickly as they can through the knee-high muck.
Panting, Loki spins. Seeing a boulder protruding from the slime, he rushes to move
it beneath his injured son. It does not budge.
“I will help you,” says the ancient elf, going around the boulder and pressing his staff beneath the boulder.
“Wait!” says Valli. “We don’t know who he is!”
“Don’t wait,” says Loki, trying to dislodge the boulder from the mud.
The old elf pauses his motions.
“Who are you?” asks Valli. “King of the Dark Elves?”
There are mutters from the old man’s companions, and Loki looks fearfully over his shoulder, as they edge closer.
“There are no kings among our people,” says the Dark Elf. “But you may call me Sangamon.”
With that he bends his head and lends his weight to helping Loki move the stone.
x x x x
Amy rubs her eyes so hard spots of white appear behind her lids. She’d known that the story of Andvaranaut had inspired Tolkien … but she had no idea how close to the real story Tolkien’s work was.
“Why would you want to help Dark Elves get weapons?” Bohdi says. There is an edge to his voice that makes Amy’s eyes snap open. Bohdi’s chin is tilted down, his lip curled. His hair is rumpled and his face is shadowed by stubble. In his hand he clasps his lighter.
Steve sucks in a breath. He’s obviously in pain. Amy is so angry at him, and yet so shocked and horrified by what Odin did to him.
“They’re not bad,” Amy says. Steve’s eyelids flutter. His nearly black eyes meet hers. Is it gratitude she sees? She can’t acknowledge it. Looking at Bohdi, she says, “They’re more like us than the Light Elves.” She remembers Dolinar and Liddel, the two Light Elves she’d met in Alfheim. They’d fled to the Dark Lands so their unborn child wouldn’t be confiscated at birth. She smiles bitterly. “The Light Elves are a bit fascist.”
Bohdi steps back and looks down at Steve, his expression softening.
Putting her head in her hands, Amy remembers Loki’s adventures with the Dark Elves.They had helped move Nari to higher ground at the base of the Mountain of Darkness. They’d bathed him in water that ran down the volcano’s slopes—it was muddy with soot, but not with dirty magic. Nari’d healed just as well as any magical being would have in Asgard.
She takes a long breath. Humans are not magical … they have almost no magic matter. Rubbing her temple she searches Loki’s memories. Paralyzed human warriors had been selected to be Einherjar. Once they’d been given Idunn’s apples, they’d become magical and recovered.
“Idunn’s apples,” she whispers. “The apples of immortality, they make humans magical, and when they become magical their spinal cord injuries heal themselves …”
“Then we’ll go back to Asgard!” says Bohdi.
“No,” Steve croaks, eyes opening wide.
Waving the hand that holds the lighter, Bohdi starts to pace. “We’ll steal some ... didn’t Loki do that?”
“No,” Steve croaks again.
Bohdi turns to him. “But that may be how to beat the odds.” His eyes flash to Amy. “How did he steal them?”
Amy sits back in her chair. Bohdi is the only person who knows Amy carries Loki’s memories. But in this case, they’re useless. “I don’t know. It was a different incarnation of Loki.” She shakes her head. “The harvest is months away,” she murmurs. Her eyes go to the window covered in Promethean wire and her vision blurs. She remembers the magazine in her car.
“More time to plan, then!” says Bohdi. His voice is excited, and yet it sounds far away.
“No,” says Steve again. “Odin wants …no … ”
Odin had wanted Amy. Amy puts both hands to her forehead, trying to block out the memories and Bohdi’s and Steve’s voices.
“I can’t leave you like this,” Bohdi says.
“Be quiet a minute!” Amy snaps. She hears Bohdi’s pacing stop, but doesn’t look up. “There may be a faster way,” she says looking at the floor. Her heart beats fast remembering her conversation with Katherine the night before.
“Eisa,” Amy murmurs. In another universe, Loki had not saved the universe and died, and Amy had not miscarried. Eisa is what they’d named their magical half-human daughter.
“Eisa?” says Steve
Biting her lip, Amy looks down at the floor. She scuffs her shoe on the tile. “My little girl who died.” She remembers the child she’d briefly seen in Nornheim. Cherub cheeked, red haired, and alive. Amy lifts her head, but sees nothing but a white blur. Her hands feel clammy. “We don’t need Idunn’s apples. We have the technology to make Steve magical ourselves. Maybe.”
“We implant Eisa’s stem cells into Steve?” Bohdi says.
Blinking, Amy focuses on him. “No. They’d be seen as foreign invaders. We infect Steve with a modified HIV virus…” Her hands start to shake. “It attacks neural stem cells that are cancerous. But instead of having it infect them with a protein that makes the cells self-destruct, we have it infect them with a protein that makes them become magic matter.”
“Say what?” says Bohdi.
“It’s James Swanson’s research—you know, Katherine’s husband,” Amy says. “Modified HIV viruses have been in use for years to treat disease. But the therapy is expensive because modifying the virus appropriately is time consuming and expensive. James came up with a process that is fast—and easy enough I can do it.”
“What are the side effects?” asks Steve.
Amy drops her eyes to her shoes. “It probably won’t work …” But if it does work, she knows enough about James’ research to know that he first did experiments on dogs. She blinks her eyes and bites her lip. She might be able to save Fenrir.
“Do it,” says Steve.
Amy lifts her head. “And in the off chance that it does work, you might become too magical … it might make you sick.”
“Do it,” Steve croaks again.
Amy meets Steve’s eyes. They’re a little red, and a little out of focus. He hasn’t moved since she’s entered. Because he can’t. But he stole Eisa. She sees her little girl’s face in the column. They’ll try to clone her, if they haven’t already … she knows they will. She thinks of a copy of that little girl in a laboratory, unloved, and …
“I don’t know if I can ever trust you again, Steve,” she says.
She’s vaguely aware of Bohdi turning to her sharply. She takes another deep breath. But what Steve did for the elves, that was good and … “But I can’t let Odin win.”
Steve exhales. Or maybe he sighs. “Thank you,” he whispers.
His vulnerability hits her like a collision with a truck. He’s helpless, and she’s been cruel. But she’s also not wrong. She takes a long breath. “If I help you get better, you help me shut down any other … experiments … they might be doing on Eisa.”
“Yes,” Steve says. “Yes.” His voice sounds fainter. His eyes aren’t open. A monitor starts to beep. She sees his jaw move. Maybe he’s swallowing. He licks his lips. “Magic detectors … weren’t working.”
Amy feels a cold coil of dread tighten in her chest. Beside her, Bohdi whispers, “What?”
Steve sucks in a breath and says, “And Lewis … there was someone else … someone tried to help me …”
Taking a step forward, Amy says, “Who?”
“I … don’t … know…” He takes a ragged breath, his eyes are still closed. “I … maybe … ”
The door opens behind Amy and a nurse comes in. “I have to check his vitals. I need to ask you to leave.”
Steve says nothing. His face is still as stone. He might be asleep.
Nodding at the nurse, Amy turns to the door. As she steps out between Brett, Bryant, and the guards, her eyes fall on the magic detectors and she remembers Steve’s words. Her mouth falls open, but Bohdi beats her to it. “Guys, Steve said magic detectors weren’t working! You gotta keep someone inside there at all times.”
Bryant orders the two guys to stand guard inside the room. Brett starts making a call for backup. Bohdi turns to her. “Do you think it will work?”
Amy shrugs. “I really don’t know …” She puts a hand on his arm. His eyes fall to her fingers and then he meets her gaze through too-long black bangs. Hadn’t Steve been nagging him to get his hair cut? He smells like cigarette smoke and there’s a tear in his jacket. He’s falling apart … but there’s no one Amy trusts more. “I’ll need your help,” she whispers. She winces. “There may be some slightly illegal activity involved.”
Bohdi stares at her. His face is a little gaunter than she remembers, and he has dark circles under his eyes. But after her night, she probably does, too.
“What kind of illegal activity?” he says, an eyebrow quirking.
Amy puts her hand to her face. “Oh, stealing government property. What is that, a felony?” She bows her head. “Oh, god, maybe we should go through the proper channels.” She swallows. Not that she knows what those even are.
“No,” Bohdi says. “Some of the people in the Bureau are on the other team.”
Amy raises her eyes to his. When they’d helped Sleipnir escape, the director of the FBI had ordered them to give Sleipnir back to Odin. Steve had tried to reason with him, but had been immediately shut down. The director, or possibly someone above him, was on Odin’s payroll.
Her hands start to shake again at the enormity of what they’re attempting. But she nods at Bohdi.
Pushing his bangs back, he gives her a wide smile that is so much like the Bohdi from before it makes her heart hurt. Giving her a wink, he says, “Besides this way is more fun.”
Grinning, he nudges her with an elbow as he starts down the hallway again.
Feeling warmth in the pit of her stomach, she nudges him right back. “More fun than hopping through a nest of spiders?”
Not stopping, Bohdi’s grin splits into a wide smile. “Nothing is more fun than that.”
She almost laughs, but Steve’s parents are suddenly very close. His mom says, softly, “Dr. Lewis … Did you talk to him … is there something you can do?”
“You bet there is,” says Bohdi.
Amy looks to Bohdi in alarm. They shouldn’t promise that.
“Oh,” Ruth gasps. Amy turns back to Steve’s mom. The older woman is taller than her, a little stout, perhaps, but her movements aren’t frail. Beatrice has always said that Ruth is the “sweetest person you’ll ever meet.” She’s holding a hand to her mouth. Her eyes look weepy, and Amy doesn’t know how to say just how unsure she is. Looking back and forth between Bohdi and Amy, Ruth nods. “Our sources said it would be impossible … but I just knew …”