Bauldr's Tears

by Alydia Rackham

  “I knew they’d come, just not so quickly,” Loki muttered. “It wasn’t like I had a choice…”

  Marina frowned, wondering what he meant…

  Loki pulled the door open.

  Cold tumbled over the threshold. Moonlight spilled down across the snow, making marble giants out of the trees outside.

  And just five feet before the door stood Fenris.

  Tall, lean; with pale, carven features. Long black coat, fur around the collar, his hands in the pockets. Tousled chestnut hair, high cheekbones, and eyes like a winter evening. His gaze fixed on Loki, then drifted down to meet Marina’s.

  “My lady,” he said, his voice deep, deliberate and smooth. “I don’t know that we’ve been introduced.”

  “Where is Hel?” Loki demanded, pressing close to Marina’s side.

  Fenris’ attention flicked to him, but returned almost immediately to Marina. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, under the penetration of his cold, brilliant look.

  “She isn’t here,” Fenris answered absently. “She’s gone home.”

  “Why?” Loki asked.

  “She believes there is no point in reasoning with you anymore,” Fenris replied, reluctantly pulling his regard from Marina up to his brother. “I am disinclined to agree with her. Or rather…” he raised his eyebrows, and again turned to Marina. “I believe there is someone else with whom I may reason quite successfully.”

  “No—” Loki yelped—

  Fenris pulled his hand from his pocket and snapped his fingers.

  An invisible hook lodged in Marina’s chest, jerked her forward—

  SNAP.

  Blackness.

  A sharp gust of wind.

  SNAP.

  Her feet landed in the snow. It crunched beneath her shoes, and she sank up to her knees. She jerked her eyes open and gasped.

  She stood in a snow-steeped clearing, encircled by towering, icy trees. In the center loomed several large boulders, leaning against each other. The stars and moon pricked the vast sky above.

  And Fenris stood right in front of her.

  She gasped again and leaped away from him, pulling both arms close to her chest.

  “Please,” Fenris said, drawing both hands out of his pockets and holding them up. “I’m not going to harm you. I only mean to tell you who I am.”

  “I know who you are,” Marina spat. “You’re Fenris Farbautison, Loki’s brother.”

  Fenris’ eyes glittered unreadably in the moonlight.

  “I am indeed,” he replied. “And you are Marina Feroe.”

  Marina said nothing—just clamped her jaw. Fenris took a step closer to her, then another…

  And then fell to one knee in the snow, and caught hold of her skirt.

  “Then, my lady, since you know who I am,” he said, his voice burning. “I beg you to have mercy on my brother.”

  Marina’s eyes flashed as her heart broke into a feverish pounding.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Please,” he said again, softly. “Release him to come back with me.”

  “He doesn’t want to go with you,” Marina shot back.

  “I know,” Fenris nodded, his brow knotting. “Because he hopes for an outcome that cannot be.”

  Marina closed her fingers around her collar.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have come to the conclusion that if you gather all of these stones that Bauldr left behind, that he can be brought back from the dead,” Fenris said, gazing at her openly and gripping her skirt. “Is that true?”

  Marina stayed silent.

  “You are clever, and I know that you love Bauldr,” he whispered. “As deeply as a mortal can. But you cannot understand what has happened.” He watched her earnestly. “For long ages, Loki, Hel and myself wandered the realms together, as close as any brothers and sister can be. But when Loki met Odin and his sons, our lives changed. Loki began to wish to be an Aesir, to make a home for himself in Asgard. And while he is brilliant and talented, he could never be as strong and powerful as the eldest son, nor wise or as beloved as the youngest son. Not in their eyes, anyhow. Loki could never belong with them—it is so utterly wrong, so against his true nature. That is why he and Bauldr have resented each other for centuries, Lady Marina,” he said, a hint of pained helplessness crossing his brow. “I do not know why it happened on that particular night, I don’t know what caused the argument, what happened in their minds, what made Loki take up his arrows against his friend.” His breath caught in his throat, and his eyebrows drew together as he gazed up at her. “But he did. I watched it with my own eyes.”

  Marina went cold down to her bones.

  “Do you not understand?” Fenris squeezed her skirt. “If you bring Bauldr back to life he will call down a vengeance upon Loki unlike any the world has ever seen. Look at what has happened!” He gestured to the wintry forest. “His beloved springtime cut at the throat. Birds, flowers, fauns—frozen to death. Nothing would wrench his heart more than this.” Fenris’ eyes began to shine with tears. “The second possibility—and what I fear most—is that this may not, in fact, be a way to bring him back to life. The stones may instead simply be Soul-Splinters, meant to bear witness to the truth of his death. If Loki gathers them, and returns with them to Asgard…” Fenris’ tears spilled over, and trickled down his cheeks. “They will show the king and Thor and all the Aesir what they already know, and prove without a doubt that Loki shot Bauldr through the heart with a mistletoe arrow, and killed him.”

  Marina swallowed hard—it sent a powerful ache through her whole body.

  “Then they would have him in their grasp again, utterly condemned,” Fenris whispered, his lip trembling. “They won’t listen to any kind of reasoning—they didn’t the first go round. And this time, there would be nothing I or anyone else could do about it. For having escaped once, he has proven himself too dangerous for their liking—and they would simply behead him where he stood.”

  Marina pressed her hand to her throat.

  “You have traveled with my brother,” Fenris persisted, taking her skirt in fistfuls. “You have seen that he does not have a wicked heart. He has spared your life time after time. Risked his own life by using magic to save you from the river this very day—that is how I found you! Yet he thought of you and your safety above his own. Do you not owe him his freedom, at the very least?”

  Marina gulped again, and Fenris leaned closer.

  “Please,” Fenris said for the third time. “If you must gather the stones, keep them past these next three days, so that Bauldr’s body is no longer captive in Helheim—let his body turn to dust, so that he won’t return in some twisted, vicious form and kill my brother.” His voice broke, and more tears fell. “And do not let Loki take the stones back to Asgard, for they will not set him free as he hopes. There, they will only be used as swords to pierce him.”

  Fenris reached up and caught Marina’s hands—and she was stunned to feel that his trembled.

  “If you have any honor in your heart,” he breathed. “Gather them, look at them, and you will see the truth of what I’ve told you. Keep them safe. And then crush them. Do not speak of them to anyone for all the rest of your life on Midgard. And tell Loki to come home to his brother and sister.” He entwined his fingers with hers, his tears brilliant in the moonlight. “Do not take them to Helheim. Let the dead remain so. And save the lives of those who live.”

  Marina, shaken to her core, couldn’t speak. Couldn’t tear her eyes from him.

  He leaned forward and fervently kissed her fingers, then dropped his head, sniffed loudly, and let go of her. He got up, snow all over his knees, and turned away.

  “Something powerful lies within those rocks there,” he pointed toward the icy boulders. “I can feel it, but I cannot go in. I wonder if it might be another one of the stones you seek.” He looked at her, his gaze tired and empty. “If you are able to enter, the magic should be loud enough to call Loki to you.” For a long mome
nt, he just gazed at her. “Remember what I’ve said,” he finally murmured. “I shan’t be able to return to say it again.”

  And with a black gust, he dissolved into a cloud of sparkling smoke, and disappeared.

  Marina stared down at his empty footprints, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

  For several minutes, she stood alone in the snow, his words—and his tears—sinking through her.

  Then, the icy cold creeping up her legs, she looked up…

  And abruptly recognized this place.

  This clearing was the very place she had seen in her vision.

  Bracing herself, she crept toward the large rocks.

  With every step she took, an invisible tendril seemed to wrap around her, tugging on her…

  And suddenly pulled her straight at the face of one of the rocks.

  She snapped her teeth shut, flinched back—

  But the next second, she stood inside a very tiny stone room. And before her on the floor, lying on a purple velvet pillow, lay a stone.

  Fenris had been right.

  Square and silvery—like a cut of moonlight and starlight. It almost seemed to laugh quietly, with the voices of fairies. She stepped toward it, bent down, and picked it up. It sat lightly in her palm, warm as the other one had been, and even more brightly twinkling. She closed her fingers over it, and pulled it toward her breastbone, her heart twisting.

  A tingle, at the back of her head. Almost like a distant bell. She frowned, turned around…

  Stepped back toward the blank wall…

  And slipped through the stone, and stood outside in the snow once again.

  “Are you…” A choked voice cut the silence. “Is it you?”

  Marina, startled, found the source—

  Loki perched, off-balance, at the edge of the clearing, wearing just his black shirt, trousers and boots—no coat—his face white as death, hair inky-black, wide eyes that caught the moonlight. He let out a strangled breath which clouded around his head.

  “It’s me,” Marina managed, though she couldn’t summon much volume.

  Loki staggered, then hurried toward her, kicking through the snow. He lunged at her and grabbed her by the upper arms.

  “What did he do to you?”

  “Nothing,” she shook her head and looked down. “Nothing.”

  “What did he say?” Loki demanded. “Marina, look at me.”

  Her mouth tightened, but she finally lifted her face and met his eyes. He waited, his breath held, his eyebrows drawn together. She folded her arms tightly over her chest, clenching the stone in her fist.

  “He said that he saw you kill Bird,” she whispered. “And that if we try to bring him back to life, Bird will kill you. Or…if these stones are just Soul-Splinters, and you take them back to Asgard, the Aesir will condemn you again and cut off your head. Because they’ll know the truth. He…He says that if I have any honor, I’ll gather them all up, and just keep them until Bird’s body turns to dust in three days. And tell you to go back to him and Hel.”

  Loki said nothing. Just stared at her.

  Then, slowly, he let her go.

  He turned his head to the side, away from her, his jaw clenching. And even in this light, she could see blue ripple through his hair—and blazing red cross the irises of his eyes.

  He stepped back, and wouldn’t look at her. Then, he faced away from her completely, flicked the red sparks from his fingers, and planted Festning on the ground. It grew up to its full height, he stepped toward it, and wordlessly pushed open the door and went inside, letting it slam behind him.

  Marina sat on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, wearing her nightgown, letting the firelight play across her renewed hand. She turned it over, palm up, then palm down; opened and closed her fingers, practiced sliding the corner of the sheet through her fingertips, feeling the lace edges of her gown…

  When she’d entered the house, she’d seen Loki standing with his back to her, facing the mantel. She had felt like she should say something—but she couldn’t think of a single word. Not with Fenris’ tears lingering on her skin, the echoes of his grip still wrinkling the skirt of her dress…

  So she had kept silent, gone up the stairs and into her room, changed into her nightclothes, brushed and braided her hair, and sat there on the bed, turning her memories over the same way she turned her now-perfect hand.

  “Ah!” the crackly voice issued from above the mantel, and Bestmor’s cheerful, wrinkled wooden face emerged. “You finally let him look at your arm, did you?”

  Marina almost smiled.

  “I’m not sure I did,” she murmured. “I don’t know how he got me to…Or, why I let him...” She trailed off.

  “It is part of being a healer, I daresay,” Bestemor supposed. “Not just knowing how to mend something, but wanting to mend it. And finding a way to do it.”

  Marina’s throat felt thick, and she stared down at her hands.

  “What is wrong, child?” Bestemor asked quietly.

  “I’m afraid,” Marina whispered.

  “Why?”

  She took a slow breath, and looked up at the friendly wooden face. Bestemor waited, quiet and open.

  “I spoke to Loki’s brother Fenris.”

  “Yes?” Bestemor’s eyebrows went up. Marina nodded.

  “He said that Bauldr would kill Loki if he came back from the dead.”

  “Nonsense,” Bestemor spat. “Why would he do that, if he knew Loki had helped bring him back?”

  “I don’t know how it works,” Marina confessed, lifting a shoulder. “I don’t know what’s involved in putting a soul back in a body. He might not be…himself.”

  “Do you not think that such a thing has occurred to Loki?” Bestemor said pointedly. Marina hesitated.

  “Maybe.”

  “And I would suppose that Loki has thought about that risk, and decided it is worth taking.”

  Marina lowered her head, and nodded.

  “What else troubles you?”

  Marina looked up again.

  “Fenris said that if these stones are only Soul-Splinters, and we take them to Asgard, they’ll prove once and for all that Loki is a murderer. And they will kill him.”

  Bestemor studied her for a long moment.

  “And…you do not wish for them to kill him.”

  Hot tears suddenly spilled down Marina’s cheeks.

  “No,” she gasped, wiping her face with both hands—but tears kept coming as a strange fire coursed through her blood. “No, I don’t. But I’m…I have no idea what really happened. I can’t believe that he would murder Bird like that, but Loki has never denied it, and Fenris says he saw him do it—and said that if I watch more of the stones, I would see that he’s telling the truth...”

  “You have asked Loki to tell you,” Bestemor surmised.

  “Yes,” Marina sniffed. “He won’t.”

  “Have you considered that perhaps something else happened?” Bestemor ventured.

  “What could that be?” Marina asked, blinking to clear her eyes. “If it isn’t what it looks like, why wouldn’t he just tell me?”

  Bestemor didn’t answer, and the whole of Marina’s chest ached. Bestemor clicked her few teeth together.

  “It is a pity Loki does not just ask Prince Thor for help.”

  Marina sat up straight, wiping the last of her tears away.

  “What? Thor?” she repeated. “I thought…I thought he chained Loki underneath that…that…”

  “Oh, no, dear,” Bestemor shook her own head. “The Prince could hardly bear to stand beside his father at the trial, and afterward he secluded himself inside his home, and would not come out. I do not think he has been out since.”

  “How do you know?” Marina asked.

  “Traust, the heart of Bilskirnir, told me so himself. I think you met him once,” Bestemor replied.

  “You can talk to other houses?” Marina’s eyes went wide. Bestemor nodded.

  “Yes, sometimes, when the
starlight is right!”

  “Why…Why do you think Loki should ask Thor for help?” Marina asked, leaning closer to the hearth.

  “Because Bauldr’s body must be retrieved from Helheim, must it not?” Bestemor asked. “Very soon?”

  “Fenris said that in three days his body would turn to dust,” Marina breathed.

  “All manner of danger awaits in Helheim,” Bestemor frowned. “Even Loki will be afraid to enter it without another warrior or magician by his side. Not to mention, he has no one to discuss all these ancient magicks with, since you do not know them. Perhaps that is what is keeping him awake now...”

  “But why Thor?” Marina pressed.

  “Oh, dear Marina,” Bestemor’s forehead knotted. “Thor loves Loki with all his heart—as much as he ever loved Bird. I do not think he believes in his spirit that Loki could do such a dreadful thing, but since no one brought evidence to dissuade him or the king, what can he do?”

  “You think he would come help us,” Marina gasped. “You think he would, if Loki asked him.”

  “Loki will not ask him. He is too afraid to look into the prince’s eyes.” Bestemor pursed her lips. “But I think the prince would certainly come if you asked him.”

  “Me?”

  “Mhm,” Bestemor nodded. “He liked the story you told!”

  “Ha! That doesn’t mean he would listen to me,” Marina said.

  “He would,” Bestemor answered back. “He wants his brother back. And he wishes for someone to prove Loki’s innocence. Just as you do.”

  Marina stared at the kindly, wrinkled wooden face, and closed her hands into fists.

  “How to I ask him?”

  “Command me to go to Traust,” Bestemor replied simply. “I will tell him to tell his master where to come.”

  Marina stopped breathing, feeling the world tipping sideways.

  “Bestemor,” she whispered, feeling the full weight of each word. “Go to Traust in Asgard, and tell him that Marina Feroe—the little thing who came to the banquet this summer—begs Prince Thor Odinson to come to her aid.”

  “I shall,” Bestemor answered, smiling, and disappeared.