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

by C. Gockel

  x x x x

  Pain. Bohdi is in horrible, unrelenting pain. He feels like every single cell in his body is screaming for oxygen; and his back, triceps, and calves feel heavy and thick—pooled blood perhaps? He feels too cold. Oddly, the only part of him that doesn’t hurt is his neck. Someone is yelling above him. He hears a long wheezy breath and it is like someone is stabbing his lungs with tiny knives. It takes a moment to realize that the wheezy breath is his own. There is warmth above his heart—which is pounding too slowly—and in his forehead. It takes him another moment to realize his eyes are closed. He smells blood … the world reeks of it, and it dimly connects that the blood is probably his, too.

  He opens his eyes, and for a moment everything is blurry, but then Amy comes into view. He can’t feel her love anymore, and it fills him with a horrible deep loneliness. He reeks, and he must look like a monster, but she leans forward and kisses him again. Heat pulses from her lips to his, and then spreads out from his lips to his body. He swears he can feel his blood begin to move and hear his heart beating faster. He aches to make his lips respond to hers, but somehow he can’t, the signal from his brain to his body is being jumbled. Amy pulls away, so her lips are just centimeters above his own. He breathes in her breath, and it is sweet. All the neurons in his brain alight. She is the Creator, and that sweetness is the breath of life—literally. She’s saved him again. He wants to say something, but his tongue is a dead, dry weight in his mouth. She leans back, and he sees down her shirt to the tops of her breasts … and maybe a tiny part of his soul is distressed to be separated from the universe, but the body he is in is glad to be alive again.

  Somewhere far off Steve says, “Will he be alright?”

  “He may have some brain damage for a while,” Amy whispers, pulling away. Something warm and wet falls on Bohdi’s cheeks, but he can’t look away from Amy’s chest.

  Loki had a fondness for curves, too … Bohdi doesn’t know how he knows it. He wonders if it has something to do with being drawn to his opposite. He is Destruction, and he is drawn to signs of fertility and creation. It’s a profound realization, and he has to tell Amy right away. He opens his mouth. “Boobies …” he croaks out and then scowls. That isn’t what he wanted to say at all.

  “If he was suffering brain damage, how could you tell?” Beatrice quips.

  Amy doesn’t respond. She slips something from her pocket and presses it into his hand. He makes a gurgling noise, feeling not one but two cold magic metal somethings. They clink together in his palm and send magic thrumming deep into his core. “This will help you get better,” she whispers.

  There’s thunder far off in the distance. But he’s more interested in the magic object in his hand. He opens his fingers and sees the blunt, coppery-colored shapes of two .357 SIG pistol cartridges, standard for Glocks. What isn’t standard is the magic in them. They hum with power. What he could do with this! “Boom, boom,” he says, and then wants to wince at his words.

  Steve’s voice rings above the thunder. “We have to get out of here! We can’t hold them off much longer.”

  Bohdi looks up. Over the wall that surrounds the football-sized stadium they’re in, Valkyries are rising. Claire is felling them with lightning, the SEALs are clipping their vulnerable wings—but there are too many of them.

  Out of his line of vision, Rush shouts, “I’m out of magical ammo!”

  And Beatrice, very close, says, “I’m down to one round!”

  “I’m opening a World Gate right below Bohdi!” Amy cries.

  “Fall back!” Steve shouts, and Bohdi sees legs—humans’ and Fenrir’s—around him. He feels magic fizzling below him and also, strangely, right behind Amy. A familiar voice roars, “Stop!”

  Bohdi’s hand clasps the bullets tighter. Amy flies up and backward, and he’s staring into the single eye of Odin, and no one is doing anything.

  Chapter 37

  Amy hears Odin’s voice and then is yanked up by the back of her apron. She squeezes her bullets tighter. The raptor hide apron is too big for her, and she’s able to twist in its confines. Odin yanks her back sharply, spinning her around, and his hand snaps beneath her chin and squeezes.

  Amy may not be able to die, but it hurts and her lungs scream for air. She frantically wraps her hands around his wrists, just barely managing to keep the magic bullets pinched between her fingers. She finds herself face to face with the Allfather. He’s wearing full armor but no visor. Odin peers at her with his single eye for an instant, and then his gaze slides away. Her eyes are drawn to Laevithin, held aloft in his other hand, and then her gaze sweeps over the plain. Everyone is frozen in place: Claire and Sleipnir, the SEALs, half a dozen Fire Giants, Daevas, Steve, the crumpled form of Sigyn and a strange elf, and her grandmother. Even the Valkyries are suspended in the air. She can’t see him, but at her feet Bohdi isn’t moving. Beyond the portcullis, Einherjar, headed by Ullr, are shouting to be let in.

  Odin’s eyes fall to her feet. “If I have you, he will come to me,” he says. Amy’s eyes go to the sword and out over the human statues. Of course, he can’t let go of Laevithin to grab Bohdi, and without the sword’s power he can’t stop time—at least not so effectively.

  She follows the Allfather’s eye … he looks down at the strange elf, to Claire, and then back to her. “What have you done?” he whispers, and for an instant she sees a look of horror or sadness. And then his eye comes back to her. “You’ve slain my children.” His eye narrows. “But you can give me more, can’t you?”

  Terror makes her forget the pain in her neck. She releases one hand from his and clasps at the pommel of the sword. Laevithin’s magic radiates through her, she wills herself to be stronger, her muscles to not release, her tendons and ligaments not to tear … and strength comes. Odin growls and squeezes her neck tighter, but Amy wills her lungs into overdrive, at the same time imagining magic replacing air at the cellular level ... and it works! Her body hums with power and life without oxygen.

  Odin’s single eye goes wide. He snaps his hand from her neck, to her fingers on the pommel and her wrist. Amy can feel her bones wanting to snap, and almost lets go, but then she realizes with his hand on her wrist she’d still be trapped, and she has no magic bullets this time. Amy wills her bones to be strong, and tries to rip his hand away with her free hand. She tries the same trick he’s using, to crush his bones, but she can’t. Her mouth gapes at the realization of her powerlessness, and he smiles.

  “You’re weak, you cannot fight me forever,” Odin growls. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.” At that moment, there is the sound of a gunshot. The hand on her wrist slackens, and Amy sees blood bubbling up from his arm. Both Odin and Amy’s eyes slide to the side. Bohdi is standing in front of Beatrice, her Glock in his hand.

  “He can kill you,” Amy whispers. But as she says it, she sees that Bohdi is swaying like he’s caught in a gale ... he’s still brain damaged.

  Odin snarls, and suddenly she’s surrounded by rainbow light, and they’re falling to a forest floor. Just before their feet touch down, Amy thinks of the dais in Asgard and wills a gate into being. For a moment she hears the sounds of battle. But as Odin and she touch down, it stops again. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bohdi sprawled on the ground, fumbling to snap a clip out of a Glock. But then she sees rainbow light again, and she and Odin are falling once more.

  x x x x

  “Where’s Amy?” Beatrice cries beside Bohdi. It’s the first thing she says when time resumes.

  Her words cut through Bohdi’s gut like a knife. He’d grabbed Beatrice’s Glock, remembering she said she had a single magic round left, aimed for Odin’s head and missed, because he’s shaking like a goddamned leaf. He failed Amy. Odin’s words to Amy are burning like a brand in his mind, “You’ve slain my children. But you can give me more, can’t you?”

  Bohdi failed her. He failed her. And now she’ll be Odin’s slave ...

  Beyond the platform Bohdi sees the portcullis explode inward
and Einherjar come pouring in, some of them swinging poles mounted with what looks like velociraptor heads. The SEAL teams’ bullets bounce harmlessly off their armor. Claire’s lightning does better, but that means she isn’t focusing anymore on the Valkyries flying over the walls.

  Steve looks around. “Lewis?” he says.

  “Gone!” Bohdi says, and he wants to die again. Just as the word leaves his lips, everything stops again and Amy is in front of him, wrestling with Odin for control of Laevithin. Bohdi’s jaw drops. They vanish again, and the battle resumes, and then everything stops and they’re back. “Bohdi!” Amy screams, eyes meeting his. “I can’t hurt him. I’m the Creator and I can’t.” She disappears and the battle resumes. Bohdi’s jaw goes slack. He looks down at the rounds in his hands. His fingers fumble with the Glock. He keeps one of the rounds in his hand, but tries to fit the other one into the clip … and fails.

  “Fall back to the Earth World Gate!” Steve commands.

  “No!” Bohdi cries. He needs someone to help him, someone not just willing to die for Amy, someone who might believe him. He turns to Beatrice. “Amy’s here … magic … bullet! Shoot! Shoot!” He puts the Glock and bullet into her hand. Beatrice meets his eyes. “Okay,” she whispers, and deftly puts the round into the clip, ignoring a blast of plasma fire that strikes just a foot away, turning the rocks beneath to magma.

  Steve runs past them to the edge of the dais, Sigyn in his arms. “We have to leave!” he shouts, lowering Sigyn into Cruz’s arms.

  Beatrice doesn’t budge, and Bohdi wants to kiss her. Kneeling next to Bohdi, she whispers, “Is it a mirage? I can’t see them.”

  “Coming! Wait,” Bohdi says, his body feeling like he’s made of jello. His limbs, let alone his fingers and toes, aren’t working right. Will Beatrice be able to see? She froze last time. Why could he resist Odin’s magic? His jaw gets tight. Because he’s Chaos, the natural enemy of Order, and he’s being charged by a magical bullet. Can he transfer his magic to Beatrice? He lifts his hand up to her neck. “Touch … sorry … magic ...”

  She doesn’t flinch. “Just say when,” she says, and Bohdi could cry with joy. She’d rather die than leave Amy with Odin. So would he.

  And then a blast of plasma fire hits Beatrice squarely in the heart. The Glock falls from her hand, and she slouches backward. Bohdi screams and falls down next to her. Thunder rumbles, and he smells smoke.

  Suddenly, Steve’s face is inches above him, and he’s grabbing Bohdi by the shirt. “We have to leave!”

  Bohdi reaches up and tries to grab Steve, but his fingers fumble, he barely holds onto the magic bullet between his fingers. From below the platform Larson shouts, “Captain Rogers, we have to go!” As Steve hauls him across the dais, Bohdi grabs the Glock loaded with the last magic bullet and screams, “Steve, No! Amy! Stay!”

  x x x x

  Odin is stronger than she is. Amy has two hands on the pommel of the sword now, but she has to focus to keep her strength. Whenever her focus slips, her fingers slip. Odin has twice been close to wrenching her fingers away. It would mean he loses his grip on the sword, but now, in the forest of Alfheim, where they grapple, she doubts if it would matter. He’d pick it up after he …

  Snarling, she grips tighter. She will not think about it.

  “Tsk, tsk, child,” he says. He swings a foot at her feet, but she hops over it. Odin lunges forward, Amy loses her balance … if he collapses on her … She concentrates and thinks of somewhere soft to land. She sees rainbow lights, and she’s crashing into an indoor pool near her grandmother’s house in Chicago. She hits water, and the impact is not too great; even with Odin on top of her, her grip doesn’t slacken. Her eyes lock with Odin’s single one as water rushes over them both and they sink like stones. She calls on magic to use it instead of oxygen, glaring at Odin as she does. Her back hits the pool bottom. Lying atop her, he tries to yank the sword away, but she holds on. Odin must not like being in water, because he stands, pulling her with him in slow motion—then there is rainbow light and there is heat all around them. Amy briefly looks down and sees they are falling into lava. Her feet connect with the molten surface, and she hears a sizzle of steam and feels the heat melting the thick soles of her boots.

  “My armor will protect me,” he whispers.

  He’s trying to terrify her, she knows. But he doesn’t realize that she isn’t just Amy Lewis the Creator—she has Loki’s memories, too. She knows you don’t just sink into lava, you float for a while, and he’ll sink faster than she does. Not wanting to give away that knowledge, she pants, “Oh, no, please, Allfather, don’t!”

  He scowls, and she sees that he is sinking faster. For a moment her heart leaps—she can trap him! But then there is the flash of rainbow light, and they’re back in a deserted forest of Alfheim again. She’s breathless; Odin’s breathing is regular and even. “I’m stronger than you, Amy,” he whispers, “I am the Preserver.”

  Amy’s lip curls, but her breath is rattling out of her in huge gasps. She knows he’s not lying. She has to get him back to Asgard and the dais and Bohdi … Amy concentrates, and it’s hard … it’s like the end of the branch exploding from her core can’t connect … her imagination slips to a place a few steps from the place they were last, but she feels the branch connect and sees rainbow light, and she takes them back to Asgard and the dais. She looks around in dismay—Einherjar are now frozen on the dais steps—they’re closing in on the team. Her eyes widen. Except for Bohdi and Steve, the team is on the opposite side of the dais, her grandmother looks unconscious and is being dragged away by Larson, and Steve looks like he’s been frozen in the process of pulling Bohdi in that direction.

  Odin uses that distraction to open another World Gate. She sees rainbow light and they’re in a bedroom. “Your friends have deserted you,” Odin says, “and you can’t keep opening branches of the World Tree to the Center … you’re ruining the fabric in that place, dear.”

  He almost knocks her onto the bed, but Amy wills strength to flow through her body—but she’s at the end, she knows it—and Odin does, too. He slips one hand from the pommel down her wrist, and he pulls …

  Amy concentrates; she imagines a branch of the World Tree spilling from her and connecting to the dais and can’t make the connection. “You can’t open a gate where a gate already exists.” Odin shouts. “And your team has left you, give up!”

  She feels like her fingers are being torn from her hands, like her arms will come out of their sockets. Her feet are burning, and she smells melted rubber. Bohdi won’t give up on her; she knows it. She just has to get back one more time. She doesn’t think of the dais … she thinks of him, her other half … her hands slip …. but not before she sees rainbow light.

  She hears a gunshot before she sees anything but light, and she finds herself on the dais, facing Odin. Amy’s fingers slip completely from the pommel and she falls backward, onto the stones, pain shooting from her palms to her wrist as she catches herself.

  Odin doesn’t move. He just stares at her, sinking to his knees. For a moment, Amy thinks he’s going to reach for her, but Laevithin wavers in his grip, and he falls backward instead, the sword slipping completely from his hands and clattering to the ground. Amy stares at him, uncomprehending. Eyes open, his lips part, and from his mouth rises what looks like a wisp of black smoke. Before Amy’s eyes a cloud begins to emerge, not just from his mouth, but from his skin. It rises from his body and spreads out over the dais, in a darkening mist … Amy wants to run, but as the mist slinks around her, she finds her muscles relaxing, as though fear itself is seeping away.

  Her jaw falls, and her mind tumbles into a memory.

  Loki was running through the gardens at night. His breathing rasped in his ears, and his bony boy knees were being cut by plants, his palms already split from one rough tumble on the ground. The words of the boys in the training grounds echoed in his mind—

  “Argr weakling.”

  “Why does Odin keep you?”
/>   “Pretty little girl.”

  A tall stand of grasses, higher than his head, loomed before Loki. Squeezing his eyes shut, he plunged through them. He ran on, batting his arms from side to side with greater and greater fury to keep the grasses, some up to his waist, some higher than his head, from closing in on him. He wanted to roar—but it came out a plaintive child’s cry. His foot caught a rock, and he fell to the ground, teeth catching his tongue as his jaw slammed shut, eyes shutting in pain. Behind his eyelids he saw orange, and he felt heat against his feet and on his face.

  Opening his eyes, he saw a wall of flame in front of him. Rolling over onto his back, he looked around and realized he was surrounded by flame in every direction. His jaw fell open. Had he done this? He’d never lit more than a candle before … surely there is some other explanation … Perhaps a magic trap? That must be it. He scrunched his eyes shut and tried to focus on extinguishing the blaze. Nothing happened—he was even worse at extinguishing a candle than causing it to flame. Not knowing what to do, he pulled his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his legs.

  He felt the heat of the blaze closing in. And then over the roar of the fire and his own sniffles, he heard a voice. “Loki? Loki?”

  He felt himself calming. He lifted his eyes and saw black—but not the black of smoke. It was more velvety, like the darkness between the stars. It was the magic of … “Odin!” he cried.

  “I’m coming, lad.”

  The flames around Loki shrank and then winked out, and the Allfather strode through the charred grasses. Loki struggled to get up. But Odin put a hand on his shoulder and sat down beside him instead. “Stay, you need to calm yourself.”

  Loki did as he was ordered. He felt tears prickling at his eyes. After a long silence, Odin said, “Frigga told me the boys have been teasing you.”

  Loki looked at his knees, imagining the feast Odin had left behind to save him from this current jam, and the whispers that would arise among the courtiers. All because … “I am weak, I am trouble, why do you even keep me?” He was a worthless Frost Giant foundling—not even a bastard child of the Allfather.