Fragments of your Soul (The Mirror Worlds Book 1)

by Erbsland, E. S.

  “You look decent but in reality you’re unscrupulous, fast and sneaky,” Loke said.

  Arvid stared at him. “I’m not sneaky!”

  “Then you ought to be. Chivalry won’t get you far.”

  “Let’s have a look at the weapons,” Nod said loudly and threw Arvid a beseeching look. She pulled herself together and did it.

  Nod showed her how to stand properly in order to remain steady. For the rest of the training Arvid had to try to dodge Nod’s blows without losing her balance. Although his attacks were deliberately slow, it turned out more difficult than expected.

  Loke was watching them attentively. Initially Arvid felt uncomfortable and inhibited under his eyes. She was constantly expecting that he in some way would make fun of her awkwardness, but he just sat there in silence. After a few hours Arvid even had forgotten that he was there.

  The next few weeks they trained almost daily and Arvid quickly made progress. Nod was indeed good at what he did, at least as far as Arvid could tell as a beginner. She had to practice all the movements and attacks with both the right and the left hand, which felt terribly burdensome in the beginning, but became a matter of course over time.

  Loke mostly kept his distance. Arvid saw him even more rarely than before, when he sometimes was reading in one corner or embroidering or sewing, quietly muttering to himself. It sometimes happened, however, that he suddenly appeared on their training ground and sat down somewhere to watch them. How his presence made itself felt always depended on his mood. Sometimes they hardly noticed him, and sometimes he criticized them constantly and became downright furious when Arvid repeatedly made the same mistake. At some point this usually ended with Arvid storming off angrily. Other times he looked happy and cheerful, and he quietly grinned to himself or chuckled constantly, which made Arvid just as angry.

  Nod was their calming influence. He was always balanced, stayed in the background and did everything Loke told him to, without ever complaining. When Loke and Arvid were at loggerheads, it was he who brought them to their senses again before a really ugly dispute could erupt. When Loke was in one of his aggressive moods, Nod often became his temporary target though. Loke seemed to find great pleasure bombarding Nod with hurtful comments and demonstrating his inferiority. His servant took it wordlessly. Arvid, on the other hand, would become livid.

  One day it was particularly bad. Though Nod generally managed to remain miraculously calm, it was too much even for him that day. For hours Loke had picked on him and showered him with condescending remarks. While Arvid’s anger slowly grew and grew, Nod seemed to be getting smaller and paler under Loke’s words. Eventually, he abruptly turned around and almost fled the cave. His face was an expressionless mask, but Arvid noticed that he was close to tears.

  For a moment she was torn between the need to follow Nod to cheer him up, and a burning desire to vent her anger at Loke. Finally her anger won.

  “What do you even think to achieve with this?” she screamed. Although she knew she couldn’t physically oppose Loke the slightest, she couldn’t help but step up to him threateningly.

  “Achieve?” sneered Loke. “I’m just saying the truth!”

  “Just because someone doesn’t have any miraculous talents, you don’t have to keep throwing it at them like an insult!” bellowed Arvid. She was so upset her body was trembling with rage.

  “Everyone should know their place in this world,” Loke said scornfully, “and Nod’s place is somewhere far down there. He is a small, pathetic, stinking worm and he shouldn’t forget!”

  Arvid hit him. She was beside herself, but Loke’s body seemed as hard as stone. Sharp pain shot through her hand. She cried out in frustration, but when she raised her other hand, Loke grabbed her by the wrist.

  “You better not do that,” he hissed, while Arvid unsuccessfully tried to break away from his grip. “When will you learn to accept that you don’t belong in the dirt like the others? Can’t you see that you’re better than them?”

  Arvid laughed hard, ripped at her arm again, but then gave up. “I’m no better than anyone,” she said, laboriously restrained. “Just because I happen to possess a gift others don’t have doesn’t mean I’m worth more than them.”

  For a moment, Loke stared at her in silence, his eyes full of anger. They were of a cold blue that harshly contrasted with his almost black hair. It was one of hundreds of shades that Arvid had already seen on Loke, and yet he was and remained the same person. She should hate him, but she couldn’t. Something in those eyes was so familiar it felt as if she was facing a sibling—and yet it was very different. No matter how reprehensibly Loke acted, no matter how much he defied her ideals, she could never hate him. She instinctively sensed that this feeling was mutual. Perhaps this was the reason she was not afraid of him.

  When Loke finally loosened his grip, Arvid’s worst anger was gone. Nevertheless, she snatched her hand from him with an energetic jerk, turned around and stormed off without another word.

  Nod had quickly picked up courage again. Loke was a little more restrained the next days and was, in any fact, mostly absent. Neither Arvid nor Nod knew where he was.

  Then one night, when they were eating dinner, Loke appeared in form of a curvy woman with huge, curly hair. He almost floated in the room and seemed to be in very good spirits. He sat down at the table and was so chatty and affable, that Nod eventually threw Arvid such a puzzled look that she had to suppress a laugh. Loke insisted that they drank mead. Within a short time he topped up his pitcher three times, while Arvid and Nod were still sipping their first one.

  Nod didn’t say a single word the whole evening, but that wasn’t unusual in Loke’s presence. Arvid, however, felt herself getting infected by Loke’s jolly mood. He told her a story Arvid already knew, even if the details clearly differed from the first version. This time the bridge was guarded by at least twenty trolls, although Arvid remembered that Loke had only mentioned five last time.

  “You do know that you’ve told me all this before?” she asked with a grin, after the thieves’ house had turned into a fortress.

  “I would remember that,” said Loke and took another big gulp. “I don’t tell this story to everyone. You should know that there was a whole horde of attractive troll women hidden in the castle, trying to seduce us.”

  Arvid nearly choked on her mead as she imagined this sight.

  Loke fixed her. “You probably don’t believe me?”

  “Not a word,” chuckled Arvid.

  On Loke’s face a grin began to spread. “But it’s true,” he said emphatically. “Prudent as I am, I was the one who finally had to rip Thor from the arms of the ladies. He was so enchanted by the well-formed bodies, he could hardly contain himself. Just imagine his wife learned about that.”

  “You’re a liar, Loke,” Arvid said, laughing.

  “Am I?”

  “Either you’re lying now or you lied when you told me the story the last time,” chuckled Arvid. “Last time you said you had found a woman who actually belonged to the thieves, but helped you because she couldn’t get enough of you.”

  “Of course that was afterwards,” Loke said with a straight face. “Yes, I remember exactly. A giantess—and the daughter of a king. She begged me to take her with me and marry her.”

  Arvid snorted. “And did you do it?”

  “Master,” Nod suddenly said, “may I retire?” He had followed their conversation with a tense face so far, and looked dead tired.

  “Don’t interrupt my guests!” Loke snapped harshly.

  Nod gulped and looked at the table. “My apologies.”

  Arvid felt a flash of anger but pulled herself together. The night had been too pleasant so far to ruin it with a dispute with Loke.

  After Nod had left, Loke told the short rest of the story, which also bore little resemblanc
e to the version Arvid remembered. There were conformities, though, such as the stable boy, who was unimportant but apparently resembled a horse so much Loke was late for the meeting, because he couldn’t stop laughing.

  To illustrate this, Loke took the form of said young man, whereupon Arvid laughed so much, tears welled up in her eyes. Loke’s features were grotesquely protracted, his front teeth huge and jutting. His bangs fell to his eyes, which were surrounded by voluminous, black lashes. His impression was so absurd and yet so funny that Arvid continued to snicker quietly after Loke had normalized his appearance.

  For a while there was silence. Arvid only now noticed the effect of the two pitchers mead she’d imbibed. Her head felt light and lively, but her limbs were leaden. On one hand, she wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep; on the other hand, she had not felt that cheerful and carefree in a very long time. Now that she thought about it, it was the first time she had actually felt happy here in the Shadow World.

  Loke looked a little older again, and stared into his mug as if there was something very fascinating to be seen. Although he still resembled the stable boy, his features were now pleasantly proportioned, and his dark hair held back in several small braids. He looked nice, especially his eyes. They were dark brown and looked peaceful and gentle, though Arvid knew exactly what lay hidden in their depths.

  “I like dark hair,” she said spontaneously. “I mean… on you, it… it suits you, I think.” She paused, realizing that what she had just said didn’t make the slightest sense.

  Loke raised his head and looked at her doubtfully.

  “Well, I do realize that… that you always look different,” Arvid hastened to add. “But I… I like it. The way it looks now, I mean.” She felt herself blushing, but Loke just grinned.

  “Are you complimenting me?” he asked.

  Arvid wished she had just gone to bed. Of course it was a compliment, but she had not had the intention of paying him one. She had only put her observations into words without thinking.

  “Yes, I know,” muttered Arvid, “you couldn’t care less.”

  “What leads you to that assumption?”

  “I don’t know,” Arvid said. “You can look just the way you want. A compliment about your appearance is… well… pretty much meaningless.”

  The way Loke looked at her made Arvid nervous. He seemed to be even more beautiful than a moment ago.

  “Let me show you something,” he said suddenly. He got up and sat down on the bench next to Arvid, so close their knees were touching. Arvid instinctively wanted to shy away from him, but she controlled herself.

  “Close your eyes,” he told her.

  Arvid hesitated. She didn’t like such games. She had a queasy feeling in her stomach; however, she wasn’t sure if she would describe it as unpleasant, and so she finally gave in and closed her eyes.

  At first nothing happened. Then she noticed Loke suddenly coming much closer, so close she could smell his body odor. Shortly afterwards, she felt his hand in her hair. He gently stroked the long strands back over her shoulders, and finally touched her neck almost imperceptibly. Arvid shuddered. He began to stroke her neck in gentle, circular motions. The feeling was wonderful and tingly, but at the same time Arvid couldn’t stop wondering what he was up to. He didn’t want to… She denied the possibility vigorously but couldn’t prevent her heart from pounding heavily.

  It felt wonderful as Loke’s fingertips ever so slowly wandered over her neck. He continued his way up to her collarbone, but then the touch ended abruptly.

  “That’s it,” she heard him say cheerfully.

  Almost reluctantly, Arvid opened her eyes. “And now?” She had to admit that she was almost disappointed that he had stopped.

  “I thought you would perhaps hit on it yourself,” Loke said.

  “So… you wanted to show me something,” Arvid remembered. “And what exactly was that?”

  Loke didn’t answer, but instead took her hand and put something into it. As Arvid looked down, she stared blankly at what Loke had given her. It was the chain with her soul gem. For a brief moment she didn’t understand, but then she instinctively reached to her neck.

  “You nicked my necklace,” she said in disbelief, not sure whether to laugh or get mad about it.

  “Looks like it,” Loke said with a mocking glint in his eyes. “I don’t think the stable boy would have succeeded.”

  “Probably not,” muttered Arvid.

  “Beauty is power,” Loke said and rose, “but it’s in the eye of the beholder. Compliments reveal your weaknesses.”

  Arvid was finally overcome by fatigue. Her eyes burned and her eyelids were suddenly heavy as lead. “We should go to sleep,” she said, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger.

  “Yes, you should,” said Loke.

  The contours of his body suddenly dissolved. For a moment its mass seemed to turn into a swirling liquid that within seconds gathered in a new form. Before the huge, gray wolf jumped off, Arvid caught a glimpse of his eyes.

  He was still beautiful.

  When Arvid awoke, she felt she had not slept for long. She was severely thirsty and knew immediately why. Two pitchers of mead had been one too many, because she wasn’t used to drinking. The memories of the previous night slowly returned and with them an oppressive heaviness in her chest.

  Reluctantly, she pushed the blankets aside and left the warmth of her bed. The ground was cold, so she hurried to slip into her boots. She threw on a coat before she left the small niche and made her way toward the stairs. Everything was dark and quiet, only here and there she could hear the bright drops of water.

  Arvid had planned to go to the pool in the main cave, but when she reached the first step, she heard a noise and froze. She held her breath and listened. From somewhere far away muffled voices came, not more than a murmur, but unmistakable voices.

  She walked on, but at the passage to the main cave, she stopped again. The voices were now a little louder, yet still so far away that she couldn’t understand the words. They came from below. Arvid thought about what to do. Yes, she had to admit that she was scared, because what if the voices came from someone who wasn’t supposed to be here? With her dagger she would have felt safer, but she had left it under her bedding.

  She gathered all her courage and cautiously continued downstairs, carefully making sure not to cause any telltale noises. Soon she could hear that one of the voices was female, but had a strange, smoky sound. The increasing noise and rippling of the water prevented her from understanding what was being said, and so she crept on little by little, until she finally reached the place where the domed room slowly began to open.

  She pressed herself close to the icy wall behind a rock. When she peered over to the place with the stone basin, her breath stopped.

  She saw two giants—at least that was her first thought. The figures were huge, about twice as tall as normal people and of wiry, robust physique. Their skin was stone gray and shone almost like the skin of silver fish. Their hair, on the other hand, was shaggy and dull and had matted in long, thin strands.

  Although the two were half turned away from her, it was clear that one of them was female. She was shorter. Her hair was light gray on one side, almost black on the other, and richly decorated with shiny, colored beads. Both were very scantily clad in lightly falling materials, which made Arvid shiver in the face of the biting cold. At first she was so mesmerized by the sight that she didn’t realize that she could clearly hear what the two were saying now.

  It wasn’t Jördisch. The melody was different, strange, the sound soft, flowing, somehow monotonous, but the words sounded familiar. Finally she realized that it was Old Jördisch, pronounced in a most peculiar way. Now that she was aware of this fact, she suddenly began to understand it, but it took all her concentration to foll
ow the conversation.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” the woman with the husky voice said, “but the exact time will depend on the weather conditions. You only have a short time slot. If you have bad luck, the sky is covered all the time.”

  The male giant nodded. “Still unlikely. We will simply have to act spontaneously.”

  “I’m not sure if I share your confidence,” the woman said. “Your plan seems uncertain. I don’t see how the small amount of light should be sufficient.”

  “That’s because you only know parts of my plan.”

  “Still the secretive fellow, huh?” She sighed.

  “Oh, shut up,” he said gruffly. “You don’t need to know about the details. You are far too nosy anyway. All of this is entirely my own business.”

  “And the woman?”

  “She knows what she needs to know.”

  “If you say so,” said the giantess. “You’d better make sure that she’s properly prepared, if you want to achieve anything with your plan. She’s… just a shadow of her true self.”

  “What are you trying to say?” asked the male giant.

  “How come you keep expecting information from me without ever telling me anything about your life and your plans?” she asked. “I’m almost inclined not to tell you anything anymore.”

  Although Arvid only could see a part of his profile, she saw how the man’s expression hardened. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to,” he hissed.

  “How could I?” asked the woman. It sounded light, but the ever so slight trembling of her voice betrayed her tension.

  “What do you know about her?” the man demanded to know.

  The woman didn’t answer right away. Finally, she crossed her arms over her chest and said, “I have looked into the Black Waters and… like I said, she’s a shadow of her true self. A shadow of what she could be. She is still weak and fragile. Perhaps it would be better to wait. A gust of wind might carry her soul into my realm, so small and fragile she is.”