Ragnarok: I Bring the Fire Part VI (Loki Vowed Asgard Would Burn)

by C. Gockel

  “We meet again, Steven Rogers,” the Allfather says. The man smiles. “And lucky for you; you would not have survived the spidermouse venom, otherwise.”

  Steve wants to grind his teeth, but his jaw is slack. How did Odin get here? Steve’s eyes slide to the side. The trees … the trees beyond the Allfather are gone. In their place is a large smoking crater, filled with men in gleaming armor, reflecting the glow of orange flames. The hair on the back of his neck rises—someone let them know about the gunpowder beneath the inn. The trees in the immediate vicinity, the inn, and at least four dozen other structures have been obliterated. He hears moans around from the ground, sees the men in armor gingerly step over writhing forms.

  Steve blinks back to the Allfather. Still, all the pieces don’t fit together. Odin had to create a World Gate, but Lewis and Bohdi said that after opening a gate Odin should be weak, not upright, holding a sword … Steve gulps, and his eyes fall to the blade. It is glowing with blue fire. Fear hits Steve in a wave so strong he thinks that he might lose consciousness again. “Laevithin,” he whispers. The blade had been altered by Cera, the World Seed, made powerful enough to pull Lewis through two alternate universes, and to allow Loki to walk the In Between as casually as stepping through a door. Back on Earth, before their ill-fated survey mission, Steve had asked to use it to open the gate between Chicago and Jotunheim—and had been told that letting the blade go was too much of a security risk. Steve feels tears burn at the corner of his eyes. Not everyone in the U.S. government was on the Allfather’s payroll, and he had hoped they would keep it safe. Apparently they failed.

  Chuckling, Odin says, “Your people did an admirable job concealing it from me, some held out to the end.” It’s as though he’s reading Steve’s mind, which, considering their history, he might be.

  Steve shudders, thinking of what must have happened to those humans who “held out,” and at the same time he feels a glimmer of hope. Some humans are still fighting back on Earth. If they hadn’t been, Odin would have seized Laevithin and captured them weeks ago, while they cowered in the glove or sped across the frozen Southern Wastes.

  “But it’s mine now,” Odin says.

  Steve’s finally able to make his jaw move. Grinding his teeth, he meets Odin’s single eye. Something tugs at Steve’s consciousness. It strikes him that the men who are holding him are trembling … no, the ground beneath them is trembling. He hears groaning like an old house, and a snapping like a thousand whips. His eyes slide to the side, and his mouth gapes. The trees on the periphery of the crater are pulling themselves loose from the ground, shuddering, and leaning this way. His eyes widen. The trees are not just leaning—they’re moving—walking on their roots and branches, drawn by Laevithin’s magical glow.

  Someone shouts in Asgardian, “Sir, we must move. The trees approach.”

  Odin reaches forward and grabs Steve by the jaw. “Where is he? Where is Loki?”

  Steve smiles. “He’s dead.” And damn, doesn’t it feel good to be a little shit occasionally.

  Odin’s lips curl up in a snarl. “Do not toy with me. Where is Patel?”

  Laughter pours out of Steve—of all the moments for the kid to slip away, he chose the perfect one. “I don’t know!” Odin may have nearly infinite power, but Bohdi’s still free, and so is hope. Steve nearly chokes on his own laughter. “Chaos is such a slippery thing.”

  Another Einherjar says, “Sir, we can’t find the girl either.”

  Odin’s lip curls. “Where is Miss Lewis?”

  Steve smiles with all his teeth. “I have no idea where Doctor Lewis is, either. She’s slippery, too.”

  Odin raises an eyebrow.

  “Should we kill him?” one of the Einherjar holding Steve asks.

  Odin shakes his head in the negative.

  Steve feels a chill creep up his spine. A prisoner, to what end? Anger flares in Steve’s chest. To get Bohdi, of course. He lifts his head and shouts. “Bohdi! Do not follow me! Do not come for me! Do not come for me, Bohdi!”

  “Quiet him!” Odin shouts. Steve forces his numb feet to move. He struggles with his captors, even though it feels like he is half-dreaming. He feels a prick on his neck, and the world swims again. A ball of fabric is unceremoniously stuffed in his mouth and another is wrapped around it and tied behind his neck, holding the gag in place.

  The Einherjar before him part, and he sees more warriors bearing an enormous cross on their shoulders. For him? The men on either side of him begin to pull him forward. The ball in his mouth keeps him from screaming.

  Chapter 27

  Bohdi grabs Amy with an arm and ducks his head into the corner of Amy’s neck as explosions rock the giant tree. He is dimly aware of Beatrice and Fenrir hitting the dirt beside them—or hit the snow, as the case may be.

  The thunderous booms stop, and Bohdi lifts his head. He sees the orange glow of flames in the direction of the Keep.

  “The ground is still trembling,” Amy gasps. “Is it an earthquake?”

  Bohdi hears Thor roar and smells ozone. A moment later, Thor shouts, “Get out of the way!”

  Bohdi turns his head and sees Thor, one hand on his hammer, on the other side of the tree trunk on the branch where he’d been with Amy moments before. The hammer Mjolnir is sparking lightning and is wrapped in the iron wood tree branches.

  “Let’s jump,” Amy whispers. He nods, and they spring from the tree into the snow, landing lightly on their feet. Thor growls behind him, and they quickly scramble out of the way as he leaps from the same branch.

  Bohdi taps his headset on. He hears nothing but static.

  From below the cliff Magi says, “Father, we will meet you at the Keep!” Nari shouts, “Bohdi, wait for us!”

  The branches on the far side of the tree unwind and before Bohdi can think or ask questions, Nari is suspended by his scabbard, and Valli is suspended by his sword—still in the scabbard. They follow the path Thor, Amy, and Bohdi have taken. Before they’re out of the tree, Thor is already striding to the Keep.

  Bohdi tries to sprint ahead, but one of Thor’s meaty hands land on his shoulder with such force he nearly falls over. The big man grins. “I knew as soon as I found you, the day was bound to get exciting.”

  Bohdi scowls, the orange light of flames is getting brighter, and there’s a peculiar sort of trembling beneath his feet. He has a very bad feeling in his stomach. Magic couldn’t cause such a loud explosion, not in the Iron Wood—the trees quell even the lightning in Thor’s hammer. He needs to get to Steve, but Thor is holding him back. Prying the giant vice-like hand from his shoulder, Bohdi mutters, “That’s great, Thor. Just great.”

  Thor laughs heartily, but his grip does not loosen. “Do not run into this, my friend. We do not know the source of the explosion.”

  “My radio went out just before I found you,” Beatrice says. “Can you contact the team?”

  Shaking his head, Bohdi says, “I just heard static. They could be in Gullveig’s chamber.” As soon as he says it, Larson’s voice comes over the channel. “Patel? I can’t reach the Captain! Is he with you?”

  “No, Steve’s not with us,” Bohdi says. “Where are you? Still at the cavern?”

  “No, we’re almost at the Keep,” Larson says. The lieutenant swears. “My God, the trees are pulling themselves out of the ground and moving.”

  Bohdi stumbles. “We’re—”

  Berry’s voice cracks on the line. “Far away, we know it!”

  Bohdi sneezes at the lie.

  “And I’m so glad, because that means the fucker can’t get you,” Berry finishes.

  Bohdi blinks. No lie there, but... “Who?” he says. Over the channel comes the sound of gunfire, and the SEALs’ shouts.

  “Bohdi,” Amy whispers, “The explosion could only have been caused by non-magical weapons.”

  “The gunpowder in the larder,” Beatrice hisses.

  Bohdi’s jaw falls. “We kept it in sealed cases, we made sure they were airtight, it could only
be set off by—”

  “Subterfuge,” says Thor, his voice becoming hard.

  “Who was on guard?” asks Amy, tapping her ear.

  Larson’s voice comes over the channel. “Tucker and Rush.” And then Bohdi hears gunfire through the radio and the SEALs shouting. “Our bullets don’t work on their armor when they aren’t in the trees … but it looks like they’re retreating—they’ve opened a World Gate,” and then, “Fuck, what are they doing to Tucker? No! No! No!”

  x x x x

  “Dr. Lewis? Dr. Lewis?” Park’s voice is plaintive in Amy’s ear over the open channel. “We need you!”

  The SEALs are calling for her, not Bohdi or Beatrice and that makes Amy distinctly uneasy.

  Stumbling from the empty forest to the edge of the tents that surround the Keep proper, Amy’s eyes meet Bohdi’s. The sound of gunfire is dwindling, and over the radio, she hears, “I think they’re gone.”

  A few steps later, they pass between one last row of tents and find the team and at least thirty Frost Giant warriors crouched behind one of the Keep’s few remaining stone walls. Beyond the wall the land is cleared of trees. “What has happened here?” Thor says. The men and women at the wall swing crossbows and rifles in their direction. Amy holds up her hands—and realizes the weapons are all aimed at Thor.

  Heiðr strides over to him. “What is the meaning of this, Odinson!”

  Before Thor can answer, Bohdi shouts, “He doesn’t know!” Heiðr’s attention snaps to him, and Bohdi says, “He’s telling the truth. I can tell.”

  No one puts down their weapons, but they don’t fire either. “Dr. Lewis!” Park says, “Tucker is going to need your help.” Amy gulps and approaches the wall. She looks over the edge and her heart drops. About twenty feet away from her the tree line ends. Beyond that there are fallen tents and the remains of rough wooden buildings. Small fires flare here and there in the debris. In the center of it, where the inn should be, is a barren crater of dirt. In the crater there is a wooden cross; Tucker has been crucified upon it. Amy puts her hands on the wall, prepared to hurtle over and run to him.

  Park grabs her shoulder. “The crater is the World Gate. If you walk into it, you’ll be taken to Asgard.” He swallows. “That’s why we haven’t gone to retrieve him.”

  “Send me,” says Thor.

  “No, Odinson,” says Heiðr. Thor raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Heiðr barks some orders to her men, and they jog toward the crater.

  Brushing Park’s hand aside, Amy says, “I’ll stay in the trees.”

  She hops over the wall, and Bohdi is a step behind her. She hears more footsteps and realizes the entire team is in her wake. She’s only gone a few paces when she realizes the trees are all wrong. She takes a sharp breath. “The trees, they’re uprooted. How?”

  Larson sidles up to her. “From where we were, it looked like they were crawling toward Odin.”

  “Odin was here?” Bohdi exclaims.

  Larson scowls. “In the flesh, unless there are some other one-eyed Asgardians I should know about. He was carrying a glowing blue sword.”

  Amy’s feet stop, though she hasn’t reached the perimeter of the destruction. “Laevithin!” She gasps.

  “Oh fuck,” says Bohdi.

  “That’s really bad?” says Larson.

  Amy puts a hand to her head. “After Cera, that is the most powerful magical weapon in the universe.”

  “It wasn’t stronger than the Iron Wood,” Heiðr snaps. “He did not venture past the line of trees.” She spits. “More’s the pity. They would have seized it.”

  At the crater’s center, the Frost Giants begin to upend the cross Tucker is crucified to from the ground. His moans are like arrows to Amy’s heart. Balling her hands into fists, she holds her breath. She expects Odin to open the gate and take the Frost Giants and Tucker to Asgard at any moment, but Odin’s warriors do not come. As they bring Tucker forward, Amy’s eyes fall on the trees at the treeline. Their roots and branches are out of the ground, and bent beneath the trunks, as though they were crawling on hands and knees toward the crater. The magical source was so strong, even the appendages as thick as the waist of a man are bent—some appear to have broken from the strain. Now that the gate is closed, and its magic no longer active, they’ve gone still again, in eerily twisted positions.

  The sound of Tucker’s moans grow louder. Amy gulps and turns toward the Frost Giants bearing the crucifix. They are still a few yards away. Park’s hand lands on her shoulder, and it’s only then that she realizes she had begun to walk toward the crucified SEAL.

  “You can’t go there,” she hears Nari say, and she turns her head briefly and sees Bohdi in the grip of Loki’s sons. His face is twisted in a snarl, and he looks like he might cry.

  Amy can’t cry. She will be expected to give advice, to ease Tucker’s suffering, even though she doesn’t have any tools. She takes a deep breath …

  … and instead of Tucker she sees another man on the cross. No, not a man, she sees the son of a Frost Giant woman and a Vanir man, a mixed blood. Amy gasps. Odin was on a cross. She closes her eyes and tries to seize hold of Loki’s memory, knowing it could be important.

  She swallows. In the myths Odin had himself speared to the World Tree on purpose, so he would gain eternal life. But it wasn’t true. Odin had been crucified by the Vanir when he tried to drive them from Jotunheim. He hung there for days.

  “You can fix him, can’t you?”

  Amy turns her head … and sees Lothur, older now, perhaps thirty-five. She doesn’t know how she knows it’s him, she just does.

  She looks back at Odin, on the cross, so close now she can touch him. Reaching up, she touches his bare calf. His body is warm, but she knows instantly that his pulse has stopped, that he’s dead. “Yes,” she says anyway, and she’s startled by the masculine tone of her voice. Closing her eyes, and bowing her head, she focuses, willing magic to pool there, to be ready to spark Odin’s nervous system again, to recharge his magic matter, and fix all that has broken. She closes her eyes tighter. Something is wrong with her own magic—it’s not as strong as she expects; the magic matter in her body has retreated, and it no longer inhabits her entire nervous system. She wills it to grow and expand and focuses on what must be done. She … no he … murmurs to himself. “His mind has been starved for oxygen, as have many cells in his body, but he will recover.”

  “Don’t just talk, fix him!” Lothur screams.

  No, not Lothur ... someone else is screaming.

  “Amy!”

  Amy blinks. Bohdi’s hands are on her shoulders. Beatrice is poking at something near her feet, with her umbrella. Amy tries to hop back, but finds her legs and hands are ensnared in roots.

  “I had a hallucination,” Amy murmurs.

  Bohdi’s eyes drift down. “Are you sure it was just a hallucination?” Someone coughs, and Amy realizes that the human team and Frost Giants are staring at her.

  Tucker moans and whimpers just a few feet away, and the Frost Giants bearing the cross lower it slowly to the ground. Amy doesn’t answer Bohdi or acknowledge the stares—extricating herself from the roots, she rushes to Tucker and kneels beside him. His extremities are bare. Taking off her muffler, she lays it across his exposed skin. “Cover his feet, and other hand,” she says, and Thomas and Cruz quickly do. Amy observes the nail closest to her. It is thicker than her finger, and protruding a good inch from the place of puncture. They’ll be relatively easy to pull out—but not for Tucker, she has no anesthesia. She glances toward his face; his eyes are glazed and he’s staring upward, mouth open.

  “Where is Rush?” someone says. “Someone had to help them set off the gunpowder …”

  Amy grits her teeth and fights the flare of rage she feels in her chest. Rush walks away and Tucker suffers. Biting back her fury, she says calmly. “We need to pull these out. Tucker, can you hear me?”

  He doesn’t respond. Dropping her hands to his hand, she wills the nerves there to sile
nce, imagines the pain receptors ineffectual, and …

  A root whips up and grabs her hands.

  She stares at it, mouth dropping open.

  “You can fix him, can’t you?” Bohdi says, echoing Lothur’s words.

  “I …”

  Tucker moans. “Patel, you’re here?”

  Somewhere a few feet off, Fenrir whines.

  Bohdi drops down beside Amy. “I’m here, Tucker,” he whispers, “I’m here.” He looks like he’s about to reach out, but he draws back.

  Eyes still glazed and on the sky, Tucker says, “Bohdi, you have to go to Asgard. You have to go through the gate. Otherwise … otherwise … Captain, suffer consequences …” Tucker’s eyes slide closed.

  Bohdi leans back, mouth agape.

  And then from the crater comes a shout. “No!”

  Bohdi lifts his eyes. His lips curl in a snarl. “Motherfucking Rush.”

  x x x x

  Bohdi sees Rush over the shoulders of the Frost Giants and humans bending over the crucified Tucker. The world becomes tinted with crimson. Bolting to his feet, he crashes through the onlookers and is immediately ensnared in tree branches and roots shooting out of the snow-covered ground.

  Cursing, Bohdi tries to throw off his bonds. He hears Berry say, “What happened to you?”

  “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry …” Rush says.

  Bohdi raises his head, about to snap liar. But Rush isn’t lying. His eyes fall on the man. Rush is hanging onto the ruff of Fenrir’s neck. His body is swaying, his feet are stumbling, and with his free hand he’s clutching his stomach. His parka is stained and bloody.

  “You can’t go, Hadji,” Rush says, his hand slipping from Fenrir’s neck, and his body slumping into the snow.

  Bohdi’s lip curls at the insult. He tears at the branches, but they don’t budge.

  Rush swallows audibly. “Captain’s orders, brother.”

  Bohdi detects no lie. Rush reaches out at empty air. “Hadji, I’m so sorry … I know he is your friend.”

  “No!” screams Tucker. “You have to go!”

  Bohdi turns to Tucker.

  “Don’t believe him!” Rush cries from the snow. “He betrayed us, let the Asgardians in, told them about the gunpowder.” Rush shakes his head. “Odin crucified him so you’d think … so you’d think he didn’t betray you …”