by C. Gockel
Odin casually takes a sip from a mug of frothy juice, as though his wife has not spoken.
A note of pleading enters Frigga’s voice. “Husband, I would get down on my knees and beg you if it would move your heart.”
Steve notices a subtle shift in the room. He looks to see some of the Einherjar have shifted almost imperceptibly. All are staring at the queen with wide, surprised eyes. Apparently, begging Odin for anything isn’t something Queen Frigga is in the habit of doing.
In the periphery of his vision, Steve sees Odin lift his eyes from the scroll. Silence so profound it feels like a physical weight hangs in the room.
Steve looks across the table at the queen. She turns in her chair and leans toward her husband.
Frowning, Odin looks down at the scroll once more. “It would do you no good.”
Frigga’s body sags. Her eyes go to Steve; they are wide and pleading. Steve isn’t sure what he is supposed to do. Reveal he has understood the conversation? To what end?
From an open window comes the sound of rawking. Steve’s jaw tightens. He recognizes the voices of Odin’s winged messengers, Huginn and Muninn, who’d followed him for over a year. The rawking grows louder, and then there is the sound of flapping wings.
He must be frowning because Odin says in English, “What’s wrong, Captain Rogers, don’t like birds?” He chuckles gently. Before Steve can respond, the two black-winged rodents alight upon a chair beside Steve.
“Master, master!” one of them croaks in English. “There is a boat! A boat afloat!” The bird turns to Steve and winks. “Quoth the raven!”
“Stop clowning, Huginn, you show off!” screeches the bird that must be Muninn. Flapping its wings, it screeches at Odin, “To the sea arch! To the sea arch! To Niflheim.”
Odin sits up straighter. “Why doesn’t Heimdall see?”
“Iron wood trees on the boat!” rawks Huginn, and then both birds leap into the air, sending feathers fluttering through the air. Frigga picks one off her plate with visible distaste.
One of the birds rawks, “Loki’s on the boat.”
Odin turns to Steve with fury practically glowing in his eyes. “Does he expect to unite with the Fire Giants taking refuge in Niflheim?”
“Fire Giants?” Steve says, heart dropping. He belatedly remembers Bohdi and Amy saying that the Fire Giants were in Hel looking for the new Loki.
Odin rounds to the birds. “Huginn, Muninn, alert Jörmungandr. Tell him to kill all onboard, except Patel. Have him brought to me.”
“But … but …” Huginn and Muninn rawk.
“Do it,” says Odin.
“You overplay your hand!” Frigga says, this time in English. “Just let Patel come in peace. Let him take Captain Rogers home—”
“Be quiet, woman!” Odin roars, “Or you’ll go to the dungeons.”
Frigga draws back in her chair.
One of the birds whispers. “But Thor—”
“Shhhh …” the other bird rawks quietly. “Do what he says. Remember Baldur? Odin doesn’t do favorites.”
Steve blinks as the birds fly off. Before he can digest their words, or Odin’s talk of dungeons, there is a knock at two great double doors at the end of the hall opposite Odin. The Allfather nods, and an Einherjar opens the door. Outside the door, another Einherjar falls to one knee and bangs his fist over his heart.
“Stand,” Odin says in Asgardian. As the man complies, Odin says in English, “You have news?”
Head bowed, the Einherjar speaks in English. “Strange tidings, my Lord. An enchanter of enormous power, calling himself Daevas, has appeared at the site of the World Gate in the Iron Wood. He will not approach the trees, which begs the question of how he got there. It’s as though he dropped from the sky, but how he could do that without Heimdall seeing it … he’d have to have made himself invisible, which combined with flight would be impossible without a magical device of enormous power. A carpet perhaps, or a—”
“What does he want, an audience with Asgard?”
The man swallows. “No Sir, he wants an audience with Dr. Lewis.”
There is a rush of air in the room, and Steve’s ears pop, as though the air pressure has dropped … and there is a new man beside Odin. He wears golden armor; his skin, where it shows in his open visor, is deep gold, as are his eyes. “Forgive me, my Lord, for the sudden interruption,” he says in Asgardian.
Odin nods, completely undisturbed by the man’s sudden appearance. “What news have you, Heimdall?”
Steve’s brows draw together. So this is the watcher Heimdall—did he just walk through time, like Sleipnir, or walk through the In Between like Loki? Steve looks down at his plate. Those were abilities he thought were the domain of only Loki or Loki’s children.
Bowing low, Heimdall says, “The interloper in the Iron Wood—I have surmised his species.” Heimdall leans close to Odin and whispers something in the Allfather’s ear.
Odin drops his cup, and Steve looks up in alarm. Odin’s face has gone a shade paler. In English he says, “No. We will send in our troops.”
The fork in Steve’s hand slips and clatters on his plate.
Standing, Odin’s face becomes grim. “Be afraid, Captain Rogers. Death comes for your people in Jotunheim. If they survive it will only be by my grace.” He doesn’t meet Steve’s eyes when he speaks, and Steve knows like he knows how to breathe that the Allfather is not lying.
Across from him, Frigga whispers, “Life and Death and Chaos … it has begun.” She closes her eyes. “And we are all undone.”
Steve sits dumbfounded, his limbs heavy and cold. He thought he was the one in danger, that Claire, Bohdi, and Amy at least had the protection of the Iron Wood, but whoever, or whatever is facing the team in Jotunheim is enough to frighten Odin himself.
x x x x
Amy approaches the line of trees at the crater’s edge. A few of the Frost Giants on guard there, and Jarnsaxa and her sons, turn and nod at her. Ralf and Ragnar both wink at Harding. Amy can’t see over their shoulders. She turns to the team and her eyes widen, “Where is Claire?”
There are blank looks among the humans and the Frost Giant entourage. And then stumbling through the crowd, Rush says, “Oh, she stopped a while back. She’ll catch up.”
Amy’s mouth drops open, and her thoughts tumble out in a torrent. “She followed her father to Jotunheim. She’s following Bohdi and his team now!” She puts a hand to her mouth. “Harding, you and Nari, you have to go after her. Rush—” She looks at the SEAL clutching his side. “Sit down, you’re going to hurt yourself. Please?”
Rush ignores her. Harding doesn’t move, but the small Marine shifts nervously on her feet. Amy stands straighter.
Gesturing to the Frost Giants at the crater, Fenrir, and Beatrice, Amy says, “Please, I’ve got an army behind me. Claire’s just a little girl.”
“You’re right,” says Harding. The woman turns on her heel. “Come on, Nari.”
Ragnar and Ralf say, “We will come with you.”
“As will we,” says Jarnsaxa.
“But mother …” Modi starts to say.
“Father said …” Magi says.
“I’m going after the girl and your father. Are you with me?” The Queen says, already striding from the perimeter to Harding’s side. Her sons follow without a word.
As they leave, Amy looks through the gap in the perimeter around the crater. A man is standing there. His features are handsome, but there is pallor to his skin that looks unhealthy. He is bald, and from a distance, he appears to be unblinking. He is wearing a backpack that looks like it could have come from any Earth sports store. He’s wearing a thin cotton shirt, blue jeans, and hiking boots. A cold wind blows, but he doesn’t even blink.
Heiðr and Beatrice sidle up beside her. Beatrice’s rifle clicks. Fenrir whines and cowers on her stomach.
“Oh, come on, Dog,” Rush says, staggering over and draping an arm around Fenrir’s enormous haunches. “It’s just one guy.”
She lifts her eyes to the man.
“I mean you no harm,” he says.
“Do you know him?” Beatrice asks.
“I …” Amy tilts her head.
“We have met,” the man says. He takes a step forward. Amy hears an arrow hiss. The man looks down at his chest as though merely curious. He pulls the arrow out, shuddering only a bit. Taking another step forward, he says softly, “Please, Dr. Lewis, I need your help.” The branches of the trees begin to wave in his direction.
Amy walks carefully toward the perimeter but doesn’t quite leave the safety of the trees.
He cocks his head, his unblinking eyes wide open. Visibly shivering, he falls to his knees and drops his head. “I beg you.”
Amy stares at him, mouth agape. Almost on instinct, she approaches him, her team beside and behind her. Somewhere, she hears Gem order someone loudly, “Give me a crossbow,” and then say, “Bjorna, you take this.”
Amy walks closer to the man. Without looking up, he stammers, “I bring you gifts from your home world—artifacts of great power.” He slips the backpack from his back, and Rush shouts, “No sudden moves.”
He nods, or maybe his body just shakes, Amy’s not sure. Beside her, Rush says, “Lewis, let’s stop and think about this.”
Beatrice huffs. “Amy—”
“I have to do this, Grandma,” Amy says, her eyes glued on the man as he slips a small suitcase, the type used for carrying ammo and small firearms, from the backpack.
Rush’s hand falls on her shoulder. Before Amy can protest, Beatrice whacks it away with her umbrella. “Are you crazy, old woman? Do you want to get your granddaughter killed?”
“Amy can’t die,” Beatrice says softly.
The man opens the suitcase. The inside is lined with Promethean wire, and it is filled with bullets. The trees behind Amy groan. The ground trembles. He shuts the case quickly, sealing the magic within the Promethean wire, and the trees are silent.
“See?” he says, “For you.”
“I’m sorry,” Amy says, drawing so close he is less than her body’s length away. Something tickles her as she gets closer, a sort of static in the air. Her brain chokes through Loki’s memories, and she stumbles on the answer. Magic, she’s feeling magic, because she is a magical creature now. “Daevas, that’s your name, isn’t it?”
He bows his head. “It was my name. Before they unmade me.” He lifts his head. “But then you made me again.”
Amy takes a step back. A few feet away, she hears Gem whisper, “Look, Bjorna, it’s the door! My lovely front door! It survived.”
Amy shakes her head. “I couldn’t make you …” She starts to feel a headache forming behind her eyes. She feels her brow furrow.
“But you did!” Daevas says, his voice rising. “You gave me the mind of a man again, and the heart of a man, but you left me incomplete!”
Amy takes a step toward him. She reaches out a hand, not to touch him, it’s just an extension of sympathy. She feels the tickle of magic on her fingers. She pulls back her hand. Staring at her fingers she says, “I don’t even know what you are, Daevas.”
“If I show you, will you promise not to run? I will not hurt you.” Her eyes go to his. They do blink she realizes, but very slowly.
She nods. The prickle in the air intensifies, and the air behind Daevas begins to shimmer, shapes emerging on either side of his body. Someone screams. Crossbow bolts whizz through the air, and gunfire cracks. Amy instinctively drops to the ground, Daevas throws his body over her, and Amy half rolls to the side under the force of his body hitting hers. Her eyes go wide. Attached to Daevas’s back are an enormous pair of dragonfly wings; just visible through his barely parted lips she sees the glint of fangs. Her heart stops for an instant. An adze, here … who talks and reasons and is not seeking to devour her ... but how?
Beatrice shouts, “No!”
And then Amy remembers where she has seen Daevas’s face. She had met him before when he’d tried to kill her as she’d drifted down the river in Nornheim.
“Stop!” Amy screams at Daevas, the Frost Giants, her team, or the headache building behind her eyes, she is not certain.
The arrows and the gunfire cease, and Daevas slowly withdraws, pulling himself back up onto his knees.
Amy climbs up to her knees. “I …”
“Now make me whole! Please,” Daevas cries.
Amy’s cheeks redden, remembering the bodily parts the normally naked adze were conspicuously without. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can!” he roars. “You infected me with life! Finish the job!”
Stumbling to her feet, her vision is filled with Daevas’s finger-length fangs and her breathing comes in short, shaky breaths. She’d spit at him while she’d held Bohdi above water. The headache behind her eyes becomes so painful she goes blind. It’s so painful, her consciousness seems to split from her body, she hears herself screaming, but her mind floats above it all. She’s tired of this … this mental block that always occurs when she tries to remember. “No!” she shouts. Clutching her head she shouts, “Enough!” She wills the pain in her head to stop … and it does.
And she remembers everything.
From the perimeter guarded by the Frost Giants, the old man shouts, “The gate is opening!”
Daevas’s eyes glow, and he shouts, “Odin!” Pushing Amy down, he crouches above her, shielding her with his body. Over his shoulder she can see rainbow light shimmering from the crater’s center. Einherjar spill through. Beatrice and Rush fire their weapons, crossbows whizz through the air. They have absolutely no effect. The Einherjar part, and Odin strides between them, Laevithin in his grasp. The ground trembles beneath Amy’s feet. Behind her she knows the trees have begun to lumber forward, drawn to the warriors’ magical armor, and the magical power used to open the World Gate.
Heiðr’s voice rises in the din. “Draw them into the trees! Their armor will be useless!”
“You heard her!” Rush shouts. “Into the trees!”
Amy’s hands ball into fists. She grabs the ammo case left by Daevas on the ground, and crouching low, dashes to where Bjorna and Gem are cowering behind Gem’s front door. “Daevas, everyone follow me!” she shouts.
“What the hell?” Rush shouts.
“Follow her,” Beatrice orders.
As soon as she reaches the door, Amy sits behind it with Gem, Bjorna, and a wailing Cannonball. “Doctor?” Bjorna whispers. “What are we going to do? Should we run?”
Amy doesn’t answer. She hears the trees rumbling toward them from behind, and the Einherjar and Odin approaching from the other way. Throwing open the ammo case, she grabs a bullet. Magic flows through her. She looks down at the shining metal, for an instant, transfixed. It’s powerful—from Loki’s memories she’d say at least as powerful as Gungnir had been when it had been whole. Shaking her head, she shouts, “Beatrice, take some!” and goes to the door handle.
“The trees are going to attack us!” Rush shouts.
Beatrice starts pulling ammo from the case without a word. She picks up a clip, reloads her Glock and fires. An Einherjar screams and falls.
“What the hell is she doing?” Rush shouts. Fenrir’s crouched on the ground behind some rubble beside him, growling and barking.
Amy doesn’t respond. She squeezes the bullet with one hand, and then has a terrifying thought. “Lift the door!” she says to Gem. “It has to be vertical or Fenrir won’t fit.”
The dwarf blinks at her, but Beatrice jumps forward and helps Amy set the door upright. It decreases their cover and Amy has to act fast. Grabbing the handle of the door, magic bullet still in her other hand, she tries to block out the sound of weapon fire, the shouts, the thunder of Einherja
r feet, the rumbling of the trees, and Cannonball’s wails.
She takes a deep breath. Loki couldn’t create gates, but he knew the theory of it. She closes her eyes, feels the magic of the bullet and the magic within her, and tries to imagine time and space bending and flexing to her will.
Beatrice shouts, “We’re drawing the trees as much as Odin, now!”
It’s not working. Amy squeezes her eyes more tightly shut. She doesn’t know what time and space are, she has no mathematical formula in her head that she can rely on. But this is her talent, isn’t it? She should be able to do this. With a low growl, she pictures a giant seed of magic within her growing toward a point she has seen in Loki’s memories many times … and feels nothing … but then she remembers—or Loki remembers—that place has relocated to the Fire Fields of Musselpheim. She imagines that realm, and that room, and feels the connection to the point, the change in space in time, rippling through her hand, and into the door. She pulls on the handle. Gem screams as they lose their cover; Amy finds herself staring at Odin about twenty feet away. “Through the door, Fenrir!” she shouts, gesturing to the empty space.
Perhaps thinking she will get a chance to wrap her jaws around the Allfather, the giant dog dashes forward … and disappears in a shimmer of rainbow color into the new World Gate Amy has just created and is holding open.
“Everyone else!” says Amy.
Beatrice shoves Bjorna and Gem through.
“What?” says Rush. Beatrice grabs him and physically pulls him through the empty space.
Eyes on Odin through the empty space, Amy shouts, “Daevas, take the ammo!” The former adze picks it up and dashes through the gate. As he disappears, Amy sees Odin, mouth agape, Laevithin in his hands. “Stop!” he shouts, charging forward.
The trees are closing in, and a branch almost snaps the bullet away from Amy. Clutching it tightly to her stomach, Amy grins. “No way.”
She drops the bullet on the ground, and a root the width of her body whips out and wraps around the shiny piece of metal and gunpowder. Amy plunges through the door and finds herself face to face with her grandmother. “Grandma! Magic bullet!” Amy shouts. Beatrice throws one to her, Amy catches it, and an enormous tree branch crashes through empty air, and then a root. Both magically sever themselves from their respective points of origin, and crash to the ground—no, stone-tiled floor—of the place Amy and her team have found themselves.