by Laurie Dubay
“So how would anyone keep him there? In Asgard.”
“They won’t have to.” He nodded toward me. “You will.”
I stopped, thought back to his earlier words. “What do you mean, we’ll be gone by then?”
He stepped toward me, his gaze steady on mine. “You will dwell in Hel with Fenrir and me. Bren is a noble god, and cannot enter there. It is my reward, and his punishment for the chaos he has caused.
I backed away from him, my eyes wide. “What? No. He’ll come after me. He’ll find a way.”
Loki’s smile was dry. “The rules of Asgard do not bend like the trees, even for a timeless and powerful god.”
I backed away further, pulled my arms tighter around me. Fenrir whined. “After all you’ve been through, the horrible things you’ve suffered, how could you want to hurt someone else like this?”
“In your world, people have been tortured to the point where they would condemn their own children to end the pain. What makes you think that I would not end mine?”
He gazed at the tree for a moment, his eyes paling, calming. Fenrir crept over and leaned against me once again as the tree began to waver.
“No.” I said. “Loki, if it meant a choice between this and having you on Earth, I know Bren would let you stay. They’d let you in. You wouldn’t have to go back.”
The tree began to lose its color. Loki sighed and closed his eyes. “Dear child, I also by pleasant streams, Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams; But though calm and warm the waters wide, I could not get to the other side. William Blake.”
Light streamed from the tree now, its hue changing color again and again. The reflection flickered in Fenrir’s eyes. I hadn’t been this close to the portal the last time I was here. The electric warmth issuing from it felt like the onset of a summer storm. It reminded me of Bren, of the way it felt to be close to him when he was angry or excited.
Loki opened his eyes. The bridge was open.
A familiar and ear-splitting thunder rumbled to a terrible volume from somewhere beyond. My hands went to my ears for a few moments. I lowered them cautiously when it stopped.
“We have to hurry,” Loki said. He turned to me with quiet regard. “Thor will not stay long.”
I stepped away, allowing Fenrir to push between us, but Loki’s hand snapped out and closed around my arm. Fenrir growled as I yanked and struggled. Loki hissed to silence him.
“Evidence of a struggle will only anger Ullur. Make things worse for everyone.” Loki said. “We will cross, in the end. You have only to choose how you will go.”
In the next moment, a jolt almost too painful to bear shot through my arm where he held me. He pulled his hand from me and stared at it, then glanced up toward the trees behind us. Skye stood just inside the boughs, her violet gaze locked on Loki. She took a few steps forward, but stopped when he reached out again and dragged me toward him.
“Let her go,” she said.
“Sorry,” Loki said. “I saw her first.”
“You don’t need her,” Skye said, taking another step. Loki’s fingers dug into my arm. “We will go back without her, if that is what it takes.”
“If that is what it takes?” Loki’s smile went from sarcastic to gruesome as he spoke. “To spare her? To save her from the fate of an eternity by my side?”
“No.” I shook my head at Skye. “I don’t want any of you to do this. Not for me. Tell Bren I know it’s my fault. Tell him not to come after me. That would be worse for me than where I’m going.”
“Enough,” Loki said, spinning me toward the portal. “He will come for you.” He pushed me forward, Fenrir falling in behind his step. Before I could decide whether to fight or comply, Loki turned toward Skye again, his expression murderous. She was standing with one arm extended, her hand splayed.
“You bitch. Do you think you can stop me alone?” But his face fell instantly. He glanced down at her ring, then back to her face. “No. You don’t do you? They’re coming.” He nodded, then reached out and turned a palm up to the portal. A thunderous roar shook the ground, and Loki’s body jerked as a charge shot through him. He pivoted and directed his palm toward Skye and the air between them rippled. She was thrown back and landed on the snow against the trees. Her eyes closed in her pale, motionless face.
“No,” I screamed, struggling against Loki while Fenrir snarled behind him. “What did you do to her?”
He dragged me forward into the pulsating light. I gazed back at Skye until she was no more than a still figure in a fading world.
Chapter 30
As I turned back to the light, my mind scrambled for purchase. We stood on a narrow strip of rainbow mist. It swirled around our ankles like alien algae on the surface of a mystic lake. A strong scent that reminded me of cherry blossoms hit me at once. I had expected sky above and around us, but there was just an endless sea of navy blue, starless and maddening in its flat constancy. I focused ahead to break the daze and saw a transparent shimmer on the other side, a rough opening, its edges wavering so that it had no definite size. To the right of the opening stood a bulky male figure in some type of armor, his back to us, his stance rigid. He held a spear in his left hand. Long, strawberry blonde locks spilled down his back, but were unmoved by the breeze that swept by us in a steady howl. Heimdall.
I leaned to get a better view of what was beyond the threshold but my vision was obscured by another hulking figure. It was impossible to make out details in the mist, but the long, golden tresses, the huge hammer standing on its head by his feet, and the thunder that exploded as he stepped forward all confirmed his identity. I pulled away from Loki’s grip and shook my head.
“No, I don’t belong here,” I said. Fenrir nosed the back of my knee.
Loki pulled me forward and my feet slid on the surface beneath the fog as if I were walking on ice.
“It’s best not to fight me, Jenna,” he said. “The closer I am to Asgard, the better I can harness its power, and Thor’s. If Bren arrives before we are across, there will be an undesirable confrontation. Thor wants him home in one piece.”
My heart sank. There was no right action to take now. I had done everything wrong. I hadn’t listened to what Bren had told me, hadn’t trusted him, and this is what I had caused.
“You’ll have an eternity to wallow in self pity,” Loki said, yanking me along. “It’s a favorite pastime of those in the netherworlds.”
We were at the halfway point now, and as I peered at Loki, I noticed he had changed. His coat was open, and his t-shirt was ripped at the collar. His neck was thicker, and the muscles of his chest bulged against the cotton. His hair had grown longer and I watched it pale to the color of straw before my eyes as it blew around his face. I felt a hot breath on my neck and glanced back, strangling a scream in my throat as Fenrir stared back at me, his yellow eyes now level with mine. I gasped as his huge pink tongue shot out and grazed my face. I had never seen a beast so huge.
“What’s happening?” My voice was thin and high.
“As we get closer to Asgard, we become our true selves,” Loki said.
I looked down at myself. My size hadn’t changed, but my skin had taken on a pale glow. I pulled a lock of my hair between my fingers and eyed it. It was longer, the color more vivid.
Loki watched me. “Yes, it’s fascinating. Isn’t it, Toto?” He reached back and gave Fenrir a firm pat.
Thunder sounded again, this time in the form of words.
“Our time grows short.” The voice was loud on the bridge, but didn’t threaten my eardrums the way it had before. Loki tightened his grip on me again, but before he could take a step there was more rumbling. We froze, listening. The sound wasn’t coming from Thor. It was behind us. I turned and peered around Fenrir in time to see Bren bursting onto the bridge from Ringsaker. Fenrir squatted on his hind legs, a growl rising in his throat. Loki yanked me behind him, bracing himself for a fight.
“He can't win,” Loki said. Bren was running toward us at full
speed. “I stand between him and the source of his power. It will be no contest.”
As Bren ran, his hoodie ripped in several places along his chest, arms and neck. Huge muscles worked in relief against his clothes, his sleeves finally shredding up to his shoulders. His hair, long and flame red, streamed out behind him. His expression was an angry snarl. I watched as his strides grew longer, pounding the bridge.
Loki raised his palm toward Asgard’s portal and waited for a surge of power. When his arm began to twitch, he let go of me and aimed his other palm at Bren. The air rippled between them even through the cruel wind, but Bren jerked to the side to avoid the blow.
Another surge from Loki conjured a swell on the bridge that rode toward Bren like a wave. He watched, timing it, adjusting his strides until it reached him, and hurdled it neatly.
Fenrir barked, a deep, echoing boom, and prepared to leap.
“No,” Loki screamed, halting the wolf. Fenrir’s haunches trembled as he held himself back, and I wondered, in the craziness of the moment, in my sick anxiety for Bren’s safety, if Loki was afraid Bren would hurt Fenrir. Loki turned to Thor. Thor’s image became sharper in my vision as he stepped toward the threshold.
“Do something,” Loki yelled.
Behind Bren, Dag, Frieda, and Frey were sprinting toward us. Dag and Frieda were side by side, forcing Frey behind them. Dag’s t-shirt had already torn clean off his body under his new bulk and his hair was a wide sheet flowing behind him. Frieda’s clothes were intact except for a few small tears in the upper arms and shoulders of her shirt, and one jagged rip in the left thigh of her jeans, but her braids hung thick to her waist, and her eyes were even larger and greener than usual, a gleam of fury in them that I had never seen before. When she focused on Loki, his eyes grew wide.
Frey roared as they continued to box him out, weaving to try to get through. His shirt was gone as well, and his transformation was the most stunning. He was bigger than Brian and Matt put together, and had more muscles than I knew existed. His dreads coiled down past his shoulders and his usually warm gaze had turned wild and turbulent. He raised one arm, bicep bulging, and pulled at Dag’s shoulder, but Dag shook him off without glancing back.
“Do something,” Loki yelled at Thor again.
I watched in horror as Thor reached down, grasped his hammer and rose it above his head. Heimdall turned slightly and pointed his spear in warning, but Thor ignored this and brought down the hammer, smashing it into the ground.
The bridge began to buck. Huge swells rose and moved toward us and the slippery surface beneath our feet rocked. As the waves passed underneath us, I grabbed onto Fenrir’s flank and held tight, my hands rooted in his fur as I was thrown from side to side. Loki held onto me, his agile footwork avoiding most of the blast.
Bren picked up his pace.
“Jenna, hold on.” Hearing his voice again, even in its surreal, booming form, after our terrible fight and all I had done to cause this disaster, was enough to make me tighten my grip and hope.
The first swell knocked them all over. First Bren, who sprung back to his feet the second he hit the ground, then Frieda and Dag, who fell back into Frey. Frieda slid toward the edge of the bridge and Dag scampered toward her and yanked her back, crushing her in his arms for just a moment before helping her up. In a moment they were sprinting toward us again, Dag holding onto Frieda’s wrist, Frey still weaving behind them as Bifrost tossed underneath them.
Bren was nearing us now, and my heart pounded with fear and worry. As the waves settled, he ran up on Fenrir, lunging left and right to get around him as the dog matched his moves. I pulled at Fenrir from behind, but he ignored me as easily as he would a fly on his back. Finally, Bren faked right and skirted him, whipping by me as he lunged for Loki. The wolf turned, vaulted himself over Bren’s back and landed between them. He turned to face Bren, the familiar low growl running like a motor.
Bren stared into Fenrir’s eyes. “Back him off or I’ll blind him,” he said to Loki.
Loki hissed and moved in front of the wolf. Fenrir’s muscles trembled but he stayed put, the rumble in his throat rising.
“I don’t need the dog,” Loki said. “We are going home. All of us.”
“No,” Bren said. “Only you.” He narrowed his eyes at Loki, his chest and shoulders heaving with anger, and stepped forward.
Loki took a step back. Bren reached out and grabbed him and Loki returned his grip, the two caught in a clench, their foreheads pressed together as they struggled.
“You harness the power of the hammer to fight us,” Bren said as he strained to push Loki back. “But how much of it is your own?” Bren drew his fist back and punched Loki in the jaw. Loki reeled. Fenrir hunkered, but Loki bounced back and hissed the wolf off before he could spring. Loki grinned and swung at Bren, but Bren parried the blow and caught Loki with a right hook. Loki fell into the mist, disappearing for a moment beneath the rainbow swirl, then staggered back to his feet, his grin growing wider.
“I’ll kill you before I let you have her,” Bren said.
Frieda, Dag, and Frey were closing in fast now. Loki glared at them. He cocked his head to the side, seemed to listen to something for a few seconds, then returned his attention to the others. “I would rather die than return alone,” he said. “Would you?”
With a monstrous expression of rage, he walked backward in long strides, closing half the distance between Bren and Asgard, then stopped and spread his feet wide apart. He took in a long breath, his nostrils flaring, his eyes locked on Bren.
“Now.”
I stared over Loki’s shoulder. Thor’s hammer came down again in a resounding smash just as Heimdall thrust out his spear and drove Thor back. I squinted, unable to see them now except as vague shapes somewhere beyond the portal. Heimdall had stalled the blow so that the huge wave rose on the bridge and then hung in place, its momentum stalled as it teetered between forward motion and settling back.
“The power does not belong to you,” Bren called. “It will drain you.”
“It is the power of Asgard,” Loki called back. “You chose to leave our world, but you cannot defeat it.”
The rainbow peak still quivered in place. Loki cried out in frustration and lifted his hand, the swell tumbling forward as he gathered its power to him. He began to tremble and raised his other hand toward us as he had before, his head still turned toward Asgard and the oncoming surge as he drew the last of its strength.
Bren lunged at him.
Loki turned just in time to take aim. The air, still alive with the strange scent of blossoms even in the howling wind, rushed between them for just a moment before Bren lifted a palm to stop its flow. Like a clear stream, the disturbed air buckled around his hand, leaving him unharmed, and forked away on either side of him. As the currents rejoined behind him, regaining speed and force, they struck Fenrir. He skidded back into me and as I clutched at his fur, we were both sent reeling. We slid over the edge of the bridge, Fenrir with his claws buried in Bifrost’s slick surface, me with mine buried in Fenrir’s smooth pelt. The vibrant mist hung above me now like a blanket of cotton candy. I was dangling in gray oblivion. Numbness seeped into my feet and crept up my legs. I watched as the bridge twisted and rippled, Bren and the others struggling to stay upright. I remembered Skye, lying unconscious or worse, somewhere outside of all this. I saw Loki crouch and grab Fenrir with both hands, yanking at his ruff, his midnight eyes staring into those of the wolf with panic and sorrow. But all this was far away now, like a childhood story, something I had known but was no longer a part of. The numbness had risen to my head, enveloped me, and I no longer remembered why I was holding on.
Panting, Loki began to raise a hand toward the portal, but quickly grasped us again when he felt us slip.
“Pull her up, Fenrir,” Loki whispered to the wolf. “Then I will pull you over.”
Fenrir’s massive head turned and he lowered his muzzle to my shoulder. I caught movement in my peripheral vision and watc
hed Bren lurch forward and barely avoid the edge as the bridge swung in a violent arc.
“Bren,” I said, surprised by the flat tone of my voice, and slipped from the reach of Fenrir’s jaw. Some nagging cell in my brain insisted I fight this, so I cinched my legs around Fenrir’s body and held on as tight as I could. The wolf dipped his head again, too far above me now, and whined an apology. I was not disappointed. Oblivion would be better than knowing I had done this to Bren and his family. It was good to feel nothing.
Fenrir and I dangled, my body numb, my senses nearly deadened. The clamor of the others was distant noise. Loki clutched Fenrir’s neck, his shoulders flexed, his face a mask of strain as he yanked at us. As I stared at his anguished face, a realization hit me like a tiny sun in the graying regions of my mind. He had to pull me up first to free Fenrir, but he knew that I would rather drop than extend my hand to him. Maybe he had even heard my thoughts. His agony was evident as he stared into Fenrir’s eyes -- he would spend every last drop of energy he had trying to save the dog, but if he lost me, he would be returned to whatever nightmare he had emerged from. All he had to do was reach for my hand, but he was so sure I would refuse that he didn’t even try.
“Loki,” I said, an idea forming even as I spoke. His frantic eyes jerked to mine.
“Pull me up first.” I said. “You’ll be strong enough to save Fenrir then.” His expression changed to one of confusion as his muscles shook with effort. “All you have to do is send Bren and the others back,” I said.
“What are you saying,” he rasped. “You know I cannot do that.”
“I know you will,” I said gently, forming my words with great effort. I tightened my hold on Fenrir. “Send them back. Lift the bridge so that it bucks them out. They won’t be able to open the portal again without Skye. Let them go, and I’ll go with you. No matter what happens, whether you are sent back to prison, or sent to Hel, I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you. I give you my word.”