by C. Gockel
Sitting back in his chair, Steve rubs his chin. “So Hoenir is the Creator—”
“He is the gardener,” says Valli.
“He is nearly as powerful as Odin,” says Nari.
“Pfffttt …” says Valli. “Hoenir would never raise a hand against anyone ... I don’t think he can.”
“But what’s with the velociraptors?” Lewis says.
For a moment, Steve’s mind goes completely blank. His eyes fall on Lewis. She’s tracing a semi-circle on the floor with the toe of her shoe, and twirling her ponytail. Her eyes are unfocused.
For a heart stopping moment, he wonders if the magic serum has somehow caused his brain to start hearing gibberish, or if Lewis has finally succumbed to years of accumulated PTSD. “Doctor Lewis … I’m not sure I heard you right … ”
“How do you know about the velociraptors?” Sigyn says.
Lewis blinks. “Erm …”
Eyes shifting nervously around the room, Valli whispers, “We’re not supposed to talk about them.”
“Amy’s an expert at Norse mythology, that’s how she knows about them,” says Bohdi, standing up from the window ledge.
“As an admittedly minor member of the Norse Pantheon,” Nari says, eyes going from Bohdi to Steve, “you can take my word, when I say, velociraptors aren’t part of the myths.”
Flicking his lighter, Bohdi grumbles. “Would be way more fun if they were.”
Shaking her head, Lewis says, “Hoenir went through so much trouble to hide them, and to keep them …and they were so scary … ”
x x x x
It is a few days after Nari’s confrontation with Odin. In the palace garden Loki approaches the walk that leads to Anganboða’s Hall—the name of the cottage he shares with Sigyn. He casts projections through the rooms and finds no one.
Cursing, he turns on his heel. He’s already checked the small row house Nari and Valli share near the Center. Valli has earned a position among the elite guard, Nari has a minor position as an adjunct to a member of the Diar, Odin’s council.
Sigyn’s always been proud that they have two children who earn income beyond the stipend that is birthright to Asgardians. Loki’s glad the income has gotten them out of the house, but it makes it harder to find them when he needs them.
Two shadows drifting through the trees catch his eyes. “Huninn, Muginn,” he says. “Have you seen my wife and sons?”
Fluttering onto the branches of a nearby tree, one of the ravens says, “That depends. Do you have food?”
Loki scowls. “If I had food I’d have eaten it!”
The other raven flaps its wings and pecks at the first. “You idiot, Huninn! He’s always hungry, no matter what form he’s in!” The ravens tumble from the branch and feathers fly everywhere.
Under his breath, Loki curses the ravens’ gibberish. Mustering all his patience, he fishes in his pocket and pulls out a small gold ring. “Look, shiny!” he says.
The ravens stop their roughhousing. Flapping their wings and swooping above Loki’s head, they rawk, “Ooooooo … it’s one of Odin’s, isn’t it? Give! Give!”
Long ago, Loki gave Odin a magical ring called Daupnir as an apology for sleeping with Sif, then Thor’s wife. Daupnir’s magical power is to make seven new rings every seven days. It’s been hundreds of years since that incident. Now Odin has an entire room filled with gold rings. Considering Loki gave Daupnir to Odin, he doesn’t feel guilty helping himself to one upon occasion.
… Actually, he probably wouldn’t feel particularly guilty even if he hadn’t given the ring to Odin. After disposing of Andvaranaut, killing Baldur, and generally taking Odin’s abuse, Loki feels it’s his due.
Pulling it to his stomach, Loki says, “Not until you tell me where my family is.”
“They’re at Hoenir’s hut!” rawk the ravens.
Loki blinks. That would have been his next destination anyway, and he spent a perfectly good ring on it.
“Now give!” squawks one of the birds.
Smirking, Loki tosses it into the air. “Catch!” he says.
The two birds both swoop for the shiny band of gold and collide in midair. Loki sees the golden ring fall to the ground. Laughing, he takes off into the trees at a jog.
“Not funny!” squawks one of Odin’s pets. Loki would argue, but he feels his mirth fading, as his heart rate quickens.
A few minutes later, he reaches Hoenir’s hut. Without bothering to knock he charges in the door … and finds himself in a hallway he’s never been in before. Loki runs his hands through his hair, accidentally setting it on fire. Wincing, he concentrates and the flames die down.
He looks to either side. Although Hoenir’s hut is only a few paces on the outside, on the inside it’s much bigger than it appears. Opening the front door can take you just about anywhere in the hut, depending on Hoenir’s mood. Now he is in a hallway, nearly ten paces long. At the end of it is a single metal door with a round window of rippled glass. Hanging from a hook near the door are the strangest aprons Loki has ever seen. They appear to be made of dragon skin and feathers.
Approaching the door, Loki taps the window. It sounds thick. He peers through it, but it’s too rippled for him to see anything. Grasping the door handle, Loki gives it a turn. The door opens without protest on silent hinges. Loki steps inside.
He finds himself in a room lit by windows of the same design as the one in the door. They admit a diffuse gray light. The room is hot, the air strangely humid. It smells like the swamps at Niflheim’s equator. To his right is a sink and a counter with a large butcher block on it. A giant cleaver hangs on the wall. Loki turns and surveys the other side of the room. There is a cage with horizontal and vertical bars riveted into the ceiling, floors, and walls. The cage has a heavily padlocked door. Within the cage is what appears to be a swinging door set into the wall.
Tilting his head, Loki steps closer. He would swear the heat and humidity is emerging from the swinging door. From outside the swinging door he hears what sounds like footsteps. “Hoenir?” Loki says.
The footsteps outside the swinging door come to a halt. “Hoenir?” Loki shouts.
The door within the cage swings inward, and Loki finds himself staring at a dragon-like head with sparse feathers, red snake-like eyes, and a long snout with wickedly curved teeth.
Loki remembers the tiny velociraptor he helped hatch centuries ago. This velociraptor is not tiny. It is nearly as tall as Loki. He takes a step back, and his back collides with the butcher block.
The velociraptor cocks its head, blinks its eyes, opens its mouth and makes a sound that sounds like the shriek of a bird of prey. The creature’s head bobs, and before Loki knows what is happening, it leaps.
Loki spins and jumps up onto the counter without a thought, grabbing the cleaver on instinct, and pulling a knife out of his belt. For a moment he sits on the counter. A loud clanging fills the room, and he realizes the velociraptor is hanging on the bars of the cage, unable to reach him.
Loki lets out a long breath of air and slips from the counter. The raptor clicks and hisses. From behind it, another velociraptor clambers through the swinging door, humid air and heat following in its wake. It, too, jumps onto the bars and gives a shriek.
“Hoenir!” Loki shouts. “Where are you?”
The velociraptors tug at the bars and hiss. Under his breath, Loki mutters. “This isn’t funny anymore … ”
Mimir’s voice rises from beyond the swinging door. “Loki, is that you?”
Another velociraptor emerges through the door and fights with a fourth to get through the door first. From beyond them, Loki hears Mimir’s muffled voice. “Get out of the way, you. Shoo! Shoo!”
The velociraptors obey by rushing through the door and leaping against the bars of the cage and the cage’s door. Their claws clang against the bars. Spittle flies in Loki’s direction, and he holds up his arm to block it. He hears the sound of clanging metal colliding with stone. Loki drops his arm, and his heart stops.<
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The metal door is open. A velociraptor swings on it, seemingly stunned that it has given way. All of the other creatures stop their hissing and shrieks. Their heads turn to the open cage. Leaping down, they rush to the door.
Dropping the cleaver, Loki throws the knife. It hits one of the creatures in the neck and explodes, and Loki is dimly aware of flesh and blood spattering on his body. Twisting around, he leaps for the sink and turns on the water full blast. Putting his hand on the spigot he sprays water on the next approaching velociraptor. Of course it doesn’t stop the animal; it lunges for Loki’s flank with its powerful jaws, and Loki barely pulls his body up into the sink just in time for the velociraptor’s teeth to crash on empty air. The velociraptor pulls back its head to strike again as the others jostle to get closer. Closing his eyes, Loki reaches for his magic. He imagines the water molecules splitting into hydrogen and oxygen, and magic exciting the hydrogen to the point—
The velociraptors scream. Pain shoots from Loki’s hand. The spigot goes hot, but he doesn’t let go. He opens his eyes to see flames leaping from the water rushing over his palm and fingers, and the velociraptors’ feathers and long muzzles aflame. They tear at their faces with their clawed hands, trying to put out the fire.
“Loki!” screams Mimir, emerging through through the swinging door. “Get out of here!”
Loki drops his burning hand from the spigot. Hoenir is standing amidst the velociraptors, wearing one of the strange aprons. Mimir is mounted on what appears to be a coat rack. On the coat rack another of the strange aprons hangs.
Loki gawks, and Mimir shouts. “Go! We’ll be fine.”
With a cooing noise, one of the velociraptors raises its singed, but no longer flaming, muzzle. Leaping from the sink, Loki turns the handle of the door, slips through, and bangs it closed behind him, bracing it with his back. He hears a muffled shriek, and feels the door vibrate against his back as the velociraptor collides against it from the other side.
He hears Mimir’s voice scolding. “Get back, the lot of you! You still haven’t finished eating the wyrm we butchered for you!”
Loki sinks to the floor, back still bracing the door. He remembers something about a wyrm being caught by some warriors in the garden the other day. The head was being stuffed for the great hall, but wyrm meat is disgusting, and the carcass was being disposed of. He lets out a breath. Come to think of it, Mimir had offered Hoenir’s services for the wyrm’s disposal. Hoenir can’t kill ... but his knowledge of anatomy makes him an expert butcher, and a fine cook, too. Loki had wondered if he was testing out a magic recipe that could make even wyrm taste good.
Loki hears some more coos, and more hisses and shrieks and then the sound of metal slamming against metal. There is a knock at the door and Mimir’s voice echoes from beyond it. “Loki, it’s just us, please let us out.”
Loki gets shakily to his feet and steps back from the door. Hoenir steps through, the coat rack with Mimir in his hand. Loki peeks over his shoulder and sees the cage door shut—and presumably secure. There isn’t a velociraptor in sight.
Hoenir takes off his apron, and the apron from Mimir’s coat rack, and hangs both on the wall. Loki blinks at the material. “That’s velociraptor hide,” he says.
“Ah, yes,” says Mimir, eyes going to the hooks. “They don’t eat their own.”
Hoenir raps Mimir’s coat rack on the floor, and Mimir says, “Now what can we help you with?”
“I was looking for my family,” says Loki.
Mimir blinks. “Oh, why didn’t you say so?” Hoenir begins walking back toward the front door of the hut.
“Huginn and Muninn told me they were here,” Loki says.
“Oh, they are,” says Mimir. Hoenir reaches the front door and turns the knob.
“Then why are we leaving?”
Hoenir opens the door, and Loki finds himself gazing down another long hallway, this one lined with more unfamiliar doors. Loki releases a long breath. Hoenir’s home has become quite the maze.
As if hearing his thoughts, Mimir says, “Next time, you really should knock.”
Loki grunts. Hoenir stops at a plain door. From beyond it, Loki hears Valli. “The dwarves are venal, money grubbing … midgets!”
“They’re in the right!” Nari shouts. “We should be on their side!”
Loki’s heart flies to his throat, and he barrels in the door. He finds himself in Hoenir’s kitchen, Nari seated at a rough hewn table, Valli pacing the room, Sigyn leaning against a counter, one arm across her chest, one hand on her chin.
“You will not fight for the Dwarves!” Loki roars.
Valli stops pacing, Sigyn drops her arms, and Nari spins in his seat.
“My sword is my own,” Nari says.
And he’s miserable with a sword, but Loki doesn’t say that. Instead he says, “The dwarves can’t win.”
Nari shrinks in his seat. Odin wasn’t wrong when he called him a coward … at least when life and limb are concerned. Excalibur’s scabbard will protect him from blades and plasma fire, but he can still be captured. If his enemies know to remove it, he’ll be lost.
“Your father is right,” Sigyn says.
Loki raises his eyes to her. Sigyn is not a coward.
“Mother?” says Nari.
She shakes her head, and says to Nari. “Your skills would be better utilized minimizing the damage.”
Loki’s entire body relaxes. “That is what I wanted to tell you. Nari, the Allfather was impressed by your speech the other night—though he may not have admitted it. He wants you as part of the diplomatic team that liaisons with the dwarf nobility.” He shrugs. “Perhaps you can convince them to end their most egregious infractions against the Merchant Dwarves?”
“And what of Valli?” says Sigyn.
Loki looks away. “You and Valli will both be part of the siege force.” Starting to pace, he says, “But the Merchant Dwarves won’t be able to offer much resistance. They’ll probably surrender before the situation even escalates to violence.”
“And you?” says Sigyn.
Loki falls onto the bench. “Odin says I’m to remain here. There will be no need of my peculiar abilities.”
Sigyn tilts her head. “When would casting illusions and creating fire not be useful abilities on a battlefield?”
Mimir coughs. Loki glances up to see an inexplicably mournful expression on Hoenir’s face, before the mute man bows his head. He turns back to Sigyn. “I don’t understand it either. But I will do my best as Odin’s servant to see you are unharmed.”
Sigyn’s eyes narrow. “Always Odin’s servant.”
Loki snaps his fingers and a flame leaps from his thumb. “I don’t always do his bidding.”
Sigyn’s jaw hardens. “But you always seem to fulfill his will.”
Heat rises in Loki’s chest. “What would you have me do? Beyond Asgard there is only death! For you, our sons, and me!”
“Someday death will be the better choice!” snaps Sigyn. “Don’t you see that there are things more important than our tiny lives?”
The fireplace flares to life and every candle in the kitchen erupts into flame. Standing from the table, Loki snarls. “No!”
x x x x
Nari opens his mouth to say something, but Steve cuts him off. “So Hoenir likes exotic pets—”
“Oh, yes!” Valli says. “Deadly snakes with butterfly wings, birds with cat faces, venomous spidermice.”
Lewis’ eyes go wide, and she slips her hands into her pockets. Steve raises an eyebrow at the motion. Those critters sound almost pleasant compared to the monsters she’s encountered. Maybe she has some sort of phobia that’s not in her file?
Turning back to the Asgardians, Steve says, “Is it true Hoenir can’t kill anything?”
Sigyn, Nari, and Valli all look between one another. Finally, Sigyn shrugs. “It might be.”
“He can’t kill, or even wound,” Lewis says softly. “He can only render pain if it is an effort to help someone,
like giving someone stitches, or some other medical procedure.”
“Is it possible,” Steve says, “that if the Creator, Chaos, and the Preserver are a trinity … that if two from the trinity, Chaos and Creation, perhaps … were to join forces, they could destroy Odin?”
Lewis lifts her head. “Odin’s primary power is his ability to stop time. Hoenir and Loki both were capable of resisting that magic. Not Loki when he was younger, but as he got older and stronger he could. Together ... they might be able to overpower him.”
“Father could take Odin by himself!” Valli says.
“No,” says Nari, eyes on Lewis. He turns to Steve, “Father could not.”
Eyes on Lewis, Sigyn says, “Loki’s plans have—had—a way of getting away from him.”
On the window ledge Bohdi flicks his lighter. A military helicopter roars overhead, so close it must be landing on the hospital roof. Steve feels his gut constrict. Had they found more wounded in the rubble of Navy Pier?
Bohdi looks down at the flame in his hands, and Steve remembers how cut up Bohdi had been about accidentally killing the Einherjar in Asgard.
Meeting Steve’s eyes, Bohdi gives a tight smile.
Steve rubs his jaw, unsure of what to say in front of so many people. “So if we get Creation and Chaos together, we don’t have to worry about Odin.” He says it with his eyes on Bohdi, hoping he’ll get the message—he can do good things—but Bohdi’s eyes are back on his lighter. Turning to the rest of the room, Steve says, “We just have to find Hoenir and the new incarnation of Chaos.”
Sigyn’s eyes flit from Bohdi back to Steve, and Steve can see the question in them. Steve works to keep his face completely neutral. The fewer people who know what Bohdi is, the better.
Another helicopter roars overhead and Steve hears Dale’s voice rising in the hallway. “I need to talk to him now.”
The hairs on the back of Steve’s neck rise at the urgency of his friend’s tone. “We’ll discuss this later,” he says to Sigyn and her boys, and then nodding to the door he says, “Let him in.”