The Last Praetorian

by Christopher Anderson

  Tarion warred against the Destructor since he was fifteen and he never had the opportunity to deal with social disasters—such as the advances of pretty women, especially pretty young women. His mind raced furiously. He could’ve laughed, rolled his eyes, given her a playful squeeze—any number of things—he did nothing.

  “What’s the matter, have you forgotten how to talk?”

  “No,” he stammered reflexively, desperately trying to think of something witty to salvage his pride and at the same time trying to avoid glancing down the front of her blouse. He failed miserably at both of his tasks.

  “I’m Aubrey,” she said, staring into his eyes beneath perfectly arched brows. “Say hello Aubrey, it’s nice to meet such a lovely girl such as you—especially on my first evening in town.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Say hello Aubrey!”

  “Hello Aubrey,” he obeyed. He wanted to get up and leave the tavern. Maybe he’d walk back to Gaurnothax’s lair and sleep there. Hopefully, some creature of the night would waylay him enroute and put him out of his misery.

  She smiled and laughed, “It would be polite of you to comment on how beautiful I am; in fact, I’m the most beautiful girl in Trondheim, don’t you think?”

  Tarion took that as an invitation to look her over thoroughly, which he’d already done more than once, but it gave him time. He decided to take as much time as he needed in order to reply in a complete sentence of more than a single word of one syllable. Eventually, he forced a smile and said, “I think you’re the most beautiful girl in Trondheim.”

  She laughed and batted her eyes. “And you travelled all the way from Roma, braving the Doldrums, dragons and innumerable perils just on the rumor of my beauty and charm?”

  Tarion stared at her. Whatever she’d said went right over his head, through the tavern wall and landed in the sea with a deadened plop.

  “Where are you from, Tarion?”

  He didn’t know what to say. The truth certainly wouldn’t work.

  She sighed and shot a hard look at him. “Do they teach you how to talk to ladies when in Roma or do they just show you how to slay dragons, be brave, stoic and charmingly stupid?”

  Tarion closed his eyes, praying to the Creator, providence, or anyone else who might listen, pleading for them to turn Aubrey into a dragon, a demon, an ogre—anything but a beautiful girl with a sassy wit.

  #

  Loki, Duke of Pandemonium, one of the nine planes of Hell, went into choking spasms. Ale frothed from his immortal nostrils. A sharp, searing pain stabbed up under from his ribs and into his heart. Clutching his chest, Loki almost fell off his seat. Still, there was nothing ominous about the attack, as his wild laughter soon made clear. It was Aubrey’s baiting of Tarion. The latter’s discomfiture took years off Loki’s condemned soul.

  He got up and sauntered to the bar. Furge had no choice but to wait on him. Loki reached over the counter, grabbed a handful of the giant’s apron and used it to wipe the ale from his face and blow his nose. “I saw you talk to Tarion about me,” Loki told the giant, who was thrice his size and yet trembled like a young sapling in a storm. “One ill turn deserves another, I always say, so I’ll invoke your doom here and now.” He looked the giant straight in the eye and plopped his tankard on the bar.

  “That doom,” Loki announced gravely, “is to ensure that my tankard is ever full! Now, if you please!” It took Furge a moment to realize Loki’s cruel joke. Then he hurriedly filled up the duke’s tankard and scurried away—making the sign to ward off the evil eye.

  “So much for fun, I’ve business to attend!” he sighed. Loki closed his eyes and projected his thought to Durnen-Gul. Loki’s vision of the waking world blurred, but in his mind’s eye the image of his lord and master, Naugrathur the Destructor, became terrifyingly clear. The Destructor stopped what he was doing and met Loki’s mystic gaze.

  “Greetings, Dread Lord,” Loki said with his mind. His vision included the dungeons wherein the Dread Lord stood, including the comely figure of Navernya.

  She stamped her dainty feet so hard that even with his mystic sight Loki saw an angry sheen of ice spread beneath her.

  “How could you enlist the Trickster’s service before my own?”

  Loki enjoyed the consternation of his beautiful but dangerous rival. The presence of the Destructor, however, was imposing enough to restrain his normal vulgarity and he waited.

  “Calm yourself, my devoted Queen,” Naugrathur said, turning his fiery gaze on Navernya. “Tarion is now at the center of this. We are not the only ones interested in the Wanderer. Thor will be sent to watch over our intrepid Praetorian, of that we can be certain. Who else should I put on the Thunderer’s trail but his old companion?”

  “Who indeed, my Dread Lord?” replied Loki, seeing his opportunity. His leering smile strayed appreciatively to Niflheim’s Queen. “Greetings, oh icy Navernya, alas, I would rather interrupt you in a more private moment and so devour your loveliness with these eyes, but duty calls. I’ve found him, Dread Lord.”

  “Where?” asked Naugrathur.

  “The snows of these wastes bite at my privates,” Loki answered truthfully. “However, the exertion was not without reward. I’m ahead of Thor, having ascertained his destination through my native cunning—second only to your own. I’m in the quaint town of Trondheim. If you recall, this is the self-same city which grew to prominence when Flavius Aetius the Renowned arranged the fall of Ostheim.”

  Navernya sneered, saying, “Your hold of history is admirable, Loki, but where is Tarion?”

  “My, how positively catty you are, Navernya!” Loki laughed. “How now, I wonder, with appropriate humility, do you put up with her, Dread Lord?”

  “On to your business, Loki,” Naugrathur said patiently.

  “As you wish, Dread Lord,” Loki said, knowing that his mischievous brilliance was the only reason the Destructor endured him. Loki’s glance turned cunning and his voice sank to a whisper. “My Dread Lord, I am standing not five paces from him. He’s great friends with the innkeeper, has already disturbed a couple of pixies and attracted the perilous ardor of the barmaid! Considering the interest Lady Freya has taken in destroying Tarion’s life, I’m rather surprised the tavern hasn’t been struck by an earthquake yet.”

  “Kill him!” Navernya exclaimed.

  “What, me; you can’t be serious! His weapons are of Brokk’s forge, dangerous even to Gods and Devils. I can’t attack him openly and sneaking up on Tarion makes him decidedly angry—what with his knightly sense of fair play and all. I’ll do a great many things before I take that rash course, I assure you!”

  “Coward!” the Ice Queen exclaimed.

  “Your estimation is of great comfort to me, dear lady!”

  Navernya was about to issue a scathing retort, but the Destructor held up his hand and she was instantly silent. A long moment passed. Loki plucked up his courage and said, “Tarion is running from himself, Dread Lord. He’s left behind the Praetorian and come to Norrland in search of his mother Julienna or rumor of her. Left alone he’s harmless. Let the Wanderer come to him, I say. Tarion can’t and won’t do anything to stifle your plans. He’s too busy running away from his past to be any danger to our future. Still, that’s not softened his temper or his sense of right and wrong—both points make him extremely dangerous.”

  The Destructor nodded and said, “Watch him and wait, Loki. The Wanderer will come to Tarion or, and this is what intrigues me, Tarion may take matters into his own hands. If he leaves Trondheim, the Wanderer will be forced to follow. Keep a close eye on him! For now, Tarion is our key. I would rather have him safely locked away here in Durnen-Gul and thereby make the Wanderer’s task that much more difficult. Pay heed and cause what mischief you may. If you can bring Tarion to a portal by devious means, then do so. Otherwise, watch him and keep me informed.”

  “As you wish, Dread Lord,” Loki smiled and he stuck his tongue out at Navernya before severing the mystic connection. Her
final expression was payment enough for his troubles.

  Loki thought about his tasking; he didn’t like it. Even he didn’t know the truth behind the struggle between Naugrathur and the Wanderer, but his brilliantly conniving mind suspected many things—the thoughts made him shudder. If he was right, Tarion could be a powerful player in this and that could be to Loki’s advantage—assuming he survived Naugrathur’s revenge, Tarion’s temper and the Wanderer’s justice, of course.

  “That little incident concerning the betrayal of Roma was so long ago, although it seems like yesterday!” Loki told himself, calming his own nerves by gulping down his ale. He took a deep breath, crossed the bar and looked down at Tarion.

  Aubrey was still on his lap. “You invited company, my dear,” she told him with a sigh. “Really, Tarion, is this how you learned to seduce beautiful girls?”

  “I’m not seducing you Aubrey,” he told her firmly.

  “Why not?”

  Loki laughed and they both looked up at him. “Don’t worry about that lass, he’ll come around!” He winked at Aubrey. “Would you mind if I had a word with Tarion? He’s far more comfortable slaying dragons than courting beautiful women. Perhaps I can set him at ease so that he can appreciate your obvious charms!”

  “Yes, I’ve been trying to get the story of Gaurnothax out of him but with no luck,” the girl said sourly.

  “Gaurnothax, my word lady don’t ask him of Gaurnothax!” Loki said loud enough for the whole room to hear. “Rather ask him of Morax the Mountain King!”

  “Morax!” she exclaimed, looking as surprised as Tarion looked put out. “I see there are more stories of manly daring do to tell! I’m all a flutter.”

  “That’s not a tenth of it sweet lady,” Loki corrected her with a mischievous grin that made Tarion shudder. He pointed to the painting on the wall and laughed, “No doubt you’ve fantasized about the knight rescuing the damsel; the one on the wall beside you.”

  “What girl hasn’t?” Aubrey sighed.

  “The living man he has you, lovely lady, on his lap,” Loki whispered in her ear.

  “That explains it,” she frowned, getting up off his lap. “He’s probably got elven maids and princesses on his mind. He doesn’t have time for barmaids.”

  “Don’t lose hope, Aubrey,” Loki laughed. “Tarion has renounced both elven princesses and the daughters of emperors. He’s here in Norrland because this is his Mother’s land and he wants to forge a new life. Isn’t that right Tarion?”

  Tarion took out his pipe and lit it from a candle. “You’ve certainly got me pegged Loki, except you forgot my favorite pastime: slaying traitorous Gods! Is there anything else you need to tell me before I finish what I started in the citadel? You don’t have Ancenar to stop me here!”

  “Oh my, it seems I’ve stirred up some misunderstandings,” Loki smiled. He patted Aubrey on her backside. “Why don’t you run along now lass, I’ll clear this up and then he’s all yours.”

  “I hope so,” Aubrey smirked, tousling Tarion’s hair. “I’m much too charming to be rejected—even politely. I expect to drive you mad when I come back, Tarion.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Tarion growled as she sashayed into the throng.

  Tarion looked up at Loki. Even Loki couldn’t read the expression, but he guessed it was a mixture of relief, humiliation, desire and pent up rage. He’d have to play this carefully. Loki could deal with Tarion, even taken advantage of him, to a point. Beyond that ill-defined line, his fury was quite as dangerous as Thor’s temper. That was saying something for a mortal.

  Loki noisily dragged up a chair and whistled in the direction of Aubrey. “Lovely girl, Aubrey; she’s Hrolf’s daughter, you know.”

  Tarion groaned and muttered, seemingly to himself, “She’s too young, too sassy and far too adorable to give me a moment of peace.” He turned a hard eye on the God. “Now then, Loki, what is it you want?”

  “Actually, it’s what I can do for you—for a price of course,” the Trickster grinned, poking Tarion in the chest with a long thin finger.

  “That makes it simple,” Tarion said, spreading his arms wide. “I’m no longer on the empress’s retainer. I can’t even afford this ale I’m drinking.”

  Loki gave a sharp yelp of laughter and slapped the table with his hand. “Gold isn’t my price. We’ll figure out something later.” the Devil-God shrugged and took out a fist sized blue sapphire. He started tossing it about, rolling it along his arm and spinning it on the tip of his long thin fingers. He noted with satisfaction that Tarion never took his eyes off it. Still, he had to give Tarion something he wanted; the man was too smart and if he felt played, he’d make good on his threat to finish what he started at the citadel.

  Loki shuddered, but controlled himself almost instantly. Absently, he said, “So, what did your father tell you when you met him in the mountains?” The question was enough to put Tarion off. The man was momentarily confused. Tarion did not like to be confused.

  “What do you know about that?” Tarion’s eyes narrowed to blade-like slits.

  “Noble Tarius springs back to life just long enough to warn you that you are to find the Wanderer; I’m thinking it was a trap set up by the Destructor. Do I guess wrong?” As Tarion’s brow rose, he added the important part; the part Loki was keenly interested in. “He also bequeathed to you a singular diamond; an empty diamond.”

  Tarion’s brows drew together in thought, but he didn’t seem shocked at Loki’s knowledge. In fact, he nodded, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. “I have to admit Loki, there’s nothing about you that surprises me anymore. In the game of subterfuge there is no one as brilliant!” He leaned back, and added, “Where did you get the information? Let me guess: your son!”

  “My son, what does he have to do with it?” Loki said, feigning ignorance.

  Tarion shook his head and laughed. “As I suspected. Tell Fenrir to steer clear of me. If Brokk’s blade can pierce your skin then your son will be just as vulnerable.” He leaned forward and his Praetorian brows drew together in a grim scowl. “I’m quite certain Thor would welcome a wolf skin carpet in front of his fireplace!”

  Loki smiled broadly, replying, “I appreciate the warning. I don’t think Fenrir will be dissuaded—he’s a hotheaded sort—but he’ll be touched that you care.”

  Tarion’s demeanor grew grimmer, if that were possible. “I like you Loki, despite myself, I always have. Maybe that’s why your betrayals are so much more difficult to endure. I’m thinking the best way to hold the rest of this conversation is with your head Loki—just your head.” The Praetorian smiled wryly; it was a most unpleasant expression for his countenance.

  Loki began to remark on this, but Tarion triggered his wristblade—something he’d been doing a lot with Loki lately. Loki froze. Tarion appeared to be in a rare mood, fully capable of murder.

  “Now let’s be quite clear about this, my old friend. Considering our past adventures I owe you that,” Tarion smiled mirthlessly. It didn’t make Loki feel any better, God though he was. “I don’t care about your betrayals so much; that’s to be expected when dealing with you. What I care about is not in your heart,” he poked Loki in the chest. Then he tapped the Devil-God on the forehead. “It’s in that twisted thing of genius you call a brain.” Tarion’s eyes narrowed again. “You know something that can help or destroy me. You’re still playing both sides. What is it about that stone you want to entice me with in exchange for entrapping me?”

  Loki swallowed hard. In answer, he directed the blue sapphire to roll down his arm and land on the table in front of Tarion.

  “You want me to exchange the diamond for this—why? What does the sapphire have that would be worth breaking an oath to my father?”

  “Release,” Loki told him, guessing Tarion’s mind. “The stone will release you from your taskings, your responsibilities and above all the expectations of the world!” Loki had Tarion’s attention now. “This stone wil
l give you what you crave: your life back. You don’t have to worry about being the Praetorian, finding the Wanderer or saving the world; you get to be Tarion. You can settle down in Gotthab with lovely Aubrey or any other girl and live out your life in peace. Isn’t that what you truly want?”

  Tarion was thinking. Loki struck a nerve. He had only to tie it up in a nice bow of logic to finish the Praetorian off. It almost surprised Loki. Inwardly he felt disappointed. Tarion was the most responsible man he’d ever known, and certainly, the man most saddled with responsibility. That such a simple gift, such a blatant ruse, could sway him was somehow deflating. Still, he had a job to do.

  “A stone for a stone, peace for peace,” Loki said evenly, putting all his powers of persuasion into the selling of it. “Oh I know you worry about your oath, but you’re not breaking it. The diamond will call the Wanderer, and so it will. The Wanderer and the Destructor met on Yggdrasil and it is their fate to meet again and so decide the fate of the world. That’s what all this is about.”

  Loki leaned forward as Tarion leaned away, keeping his presence close, intimate. He put forth all of his power. “Why do you need to go knocking about through the world to accomplish in years what can be done tonight?” The Trickster snatched up the sapphire and held it up. “This gives you peace for your life. Whatever happens in the world outside you will have your world inside. You get everything you wish: a house, a wife, children, even your parents back together if you so desire. All of it will be as real as this is,” he motioned to the tavern. “All you have to do is give me the diamond.”

  Tarion withdrew the blade and sat back in his chair, his features drained of all power and vitality. “I’m tired of fighting everyone else’s battles.”

  Loki held out the stone.

  Tarion put down his ale and reached for it.

  #

  Loki held out the sapphire, grinning, but instead Tarion took the God by the throat and lifted him out of his seat. He stood Loki on his toes, tickling the God’s ribs with the point of his blade. “Do you think I would so quickly forget my oath to my father? After years of travelling together, is that all you think of me?”