After the Fire (After the Fire: Book the First) (15 page)

There
was a crash of furniture breaking in the hut behind him. Loki could
feel the structure shake as the brothers fought inside. Loki sighed
and stepped away from the house. The snow wasn't sticking yet, and he
surveyed the oddly uneven, blackened areas in the town where the
structures had burned down. So much burned completely that it was
easier to see what hadn't been cremated. Not much was left. A few
structures in one corner, parts of houses here and there that had
miraculously survived the flames, a few huts near the entrance. He
turned to the bent iron gate through which they had entered. Loki
could still feel the tingle of power in the air. Something potent had
been here. He inhaled the acrid smell of stale burnt wood. It was
mingled with something else, something only Loki could have detected.
The god of chaos smiled and licked his lips. It was hate.

“Isn't
that interesting?” he said softly into the falling snow, his
breath filling his vision with fog for barely a moment before
dissipating.

He
had met Zaric a few times in the old days. The old god had been full
of himself. Arrogant and reserved with, what Loki gleefully recalled, a
bit of insanity in his eyes. All the gods here thirsted for power.
They were barbaric and heavy-handed, not as cunning as those
in the
North. But what he felt here was different. A thirst for power was
one thing, but pure hate was something else altogether. For his own
reasons, he had agreed with this joke of a lightning god that he
would find Zaric, but now he was growing genuinely curious. In what
form had the fire god been reborn?

Loki
walked through the bent gate. He had spotted the iron box on their
way in, but he had been distracted with searching for Zaric in the
dark. Now that it was growing lighter, he could see it more clearly.
He walked around it, feeling his bare feet crunch on the frozen
ground, running his finger along its edge. It was smaller than the
shelter that his hounds slept in, in the old days. An iron bar across
the front had been wrapped around itself, presumably to keep whatever
had been inside from escaping. The top half of the door looked as
though it had been melted to create an opening. It was not big enough
for a man, though. Perhaps a child.

Loki
peeked his head in and caught his breath. The tingling of power made
his face numb like an invisible slap. He blinked into the darkness,
letting his eyes adjust. Even with the enormous hole in the door, the
darkness in the box seemed impenetrable. After a moment, though, he
could make out a cot, a blanket, a small pile of bones. It was a
prison. Loki frowned. A prison for a god, he realized. It was the
only way to explain the intensity of power that he could feel. But
how? How had a god been kept here? Even at his weakest he could have
broken this box open like an egg if he chose. He remembered his wife.
Perhaps the new Zaric had a wife, too. Perhaps he was protecting her.
He stepped away, looking at the ground. The snow wasn't sticking yet,
though it would be soon. There were blackened footprints on the
ground leading into the village. Small footprints. So small. He put
his own foot next to one, and found it was double the footprints.
Small and delicate they were, but not as small as a child.

Zaric
had come back as a woman, then. Interesting, but not unheard of.

Loki
walked to the center of the pitiful village. He looked around at the
seared earth, the remains of the huts miniscule against the iron gate
that stretched nearly as high as the ancient trees beyond. Loki
breathed in. He could feel the destruction, it quickened his blood.
He crouched down and touched the crumbling, charred wood that had
been the base of a hut. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

Hate
was here, like he had felt before, outside the village. But more than
that, pain. And behind that, the thing that was behind every pain:
love. Something was wrong. This was not the god that Loki had known.
Zaric had changed, even beyond the change from man to woman. Loki
stood up, frowning up into the falling snow. Zaric was strong, but he
had been as dull as his lightning-wielding brother. No excitement, no
spirit. Nothing to draw a god like Loki. But this. This was
chaos
.
This caliber of destruction was raw, untempered by any intrusion of
training or control. And coupled with this degree of sheer,
unadulterated passion, this degree of power took his breath away.
Loki licked his lips.

It
was delicious.

There
was a sudden crash behind him, and the sound of splintering wood and
snarling and yipping followed.

“Enough,”
he said, the words muffled as the snow fell more heavily. A thin
layer of white
was
sticking to the burned village now. The brothers had ceased their
fighting at his words. Loki turned to look at them. They averted
their eyes, afraid to look upon him in his true form. Loki sighed.

“Have
it your way,” he said. He felt the hair follicles expand, like
a limb gone to sleep. The prickling was right on the edge of a pain
and an itch. He felt the fur cover first his feet, then crawl up his
legs, and then spread to the rest of his body. His spine stretched,
making him groan, and he felt his face bubbling with the
transformation, before his nose and chin expanded out, the bones
shifting and changing and stretching. His heart hammered as it
swelled and extra ribs grew where none were needed before. When it
was over, Loki breathed a cloud into the air.

“He's
not here,” said Skoll, finally meeting Loki's eyes. “The fire god.”

“It
would appear,” said Loki, his voice grating against itself in
its changed form, “that he is a she.”

“A
woman?” said Hati.

“A
goddess,” said Loki. “You'd best remember that. As strong
as I've made you, she will
be
stronger.”

“We
will rip her apart and eat her heart,” said Skoll, his eyes
glinting.

“I
wouldn't be so sure about that,” said Loki. “And do not
forget, Zaric is not the only one we seek.”

“When
do we leave?” said Hati, scratching his chest with his claws
extended.

“We
don't,” said Loki. “We wait.”

“Waiting
is for cowards,” growled Skoll.

Loki
crouched and trailed a finger through the thin layer of snow on the
ground. It was good snow. He was so far away from home, but he would
return soon. It was so close he could taste it. He licked his teeth,
long and sharp and savage. The air was thick with winter, and
promise, and darkness.

“Did
you see the white raven before? It flew over our heads right before
we arrived here.” The two shook their heads dully. “It
isn't an ordinary bird. I've seen it before, on several occasions.
The crone's raven. And I am almost positive that this new Zaric is
with her. It is too much a coincidence for a Fate to be in the same
wood as the one we seek. Although, wouldn't that be the most
fantastic coincidence?”

The
brothers looked at him, uncomprehending.

“We
wait,” said Loki. “Let them come to us, cold and
shivering and exhausted from travel. We will be rested and ready for
the fight.”

“And
if there are others?” said Skoll. “This place reeks of
Reivers.”

“Reivers
are the least of our worries,” said Loki. The thought gave him
a chilling thrill. He had so missed this world. The world he had
risen into was a great deal more fascinating than the one he had left
for his prison. Loki looked at Skoll. “But no matter. Whatever
comes will feast in Valhalla by dawn,” he said. “Or
wherever these barbarians go after they've been slaughtered.”

Chapter
Thirteen

Eleni awoke to shouting. She sat up in her cot and swung her legs
out, rising quickly and unsteadily. Hastily shrugging into her dress,
she became acutely aware that she wasn't alone.

“They're
waiting for you, you know,” said Iren, rising from a crouch.

“How
long have you been there?” demanded Eleni. The girl flinched.
Eleni was angrier at herself for not waking, even amid the yelling
from outside and an intruder inside. She could not let herself become
lax.

“Long
enough,” said Iren, standing up straight. She looked steady,
but Eleni could feel her heart quicken, could smell the bitter sweat
that came with fear. Iren pointed a shaky finger at Eleni's neck. “It
glows brighter when you sleep, did you know?” she said.

Eleni
touched the hard circle at her throat. It felt hot, even to her
touch. “Magda thinks it keeps us hidden,” said Eleni. “A
protection.”

“Could
it save us?” said Iren, her shoulders sagging again, her show
of bravery easing back into a frightened young girl. “They are
saying such things. About what is out there.”

“It
might,” said Eleni. “But I am no coward.”

“But
they're going to kill you, aren't they?” said Iren tearfully.
“Like the others. They were gods, too, and they just took them
like they were nothing.”

“I
cannot think of such things,” said Eleni.

“But
I must,” said Iren, almost in a whisper. “I can't go back
to the way things were. You've showed me how life can be. I can hold
my own bow, I can hunt, I can take care of myself. What will happen
if you are killed by these vile creatures? I cannot get married. Not
any more.” Tears fell down her face as she looked at Eleni
pleadingly. “Please,” she said. “I cannot go back.”

Eleni
frowned in confusion. “Then do not,” she said.

“Do
not what?” said Iren.

“Do
not go back,” said Eleni. “You have the skills you need
to leave this place. Why should you live under the rule of a man who
will not care for you? It is best to be alone.”

“You're
not alone,” said Iren. She flinched away from Eleni.

Eleni
froze and stared at the girl. Finally she shook her head. “It
is not the same. I'm not...” she couldn't finish the sentence.
She straightened her dress and began to fasten the ties. “It is
not the same,” she repeated. “I only stay so I can find
my mother.”

“So
you wouldn't bother with Grandmother if you were on your own?”
said Iren. “With Fin?”

Eleni
took a step toward the girl until her face was a breath away. She
could feel Iren quivering in her presence. She could feel her terror.
But the girl still stood, not shrinking away, looking wide-eyed at
Eleni.

“I
do not know what you wish me to do,” said Eleni tautly. “There
is no other way.”

“You
could run,” said Iren. “We could leave here, all of us.
We could find another place, away from these horrible woods.”

“If
they are searching for me, they will find me again,” said
Eleni. She turned from the girl and finished tying her dress. “A
bauble cannot protect me forever. And I would not wish it to.”

“Then
let me come with you,” said Iren. Eleni turned quickly to look
at her. “Please,” said Iren. “I could help. You've
seen how skilled I am with a bow.”

Eleni
narrowed her eyes at the child. “Never forget all the choices
you have,” said Eleni. “You can stay and be a wife, you
can leave and be yourself. You can go wherever you like, see whatever
you want to see.”

“But
you're a goddess,” said Iren softly, her voice quavering. She
shrank back from Eleni now. “You can do whatever you please.”

“It
would please me to have had a choice,” said Eleni. “This
talking is pointless. If you go, you could be killed. Take from that
what you will. Your will is your own.” She left the tent,
ducking through the flap and headed toward the noise outside.

It
had snowed. The world had changed to something far more glorious than
when Eleni had gone to sleep. It covered her tent in a thick blanket,
along with all the other dwellings. Eleni hiked up her skirt and
walked through the fresh drifts. She could tell it was cold, but it
didn't bother her. She felt the solidity of the snow turn liquid as
it met the heat of her bare feet. When she stepped down she could
feel the ground beneath the snow. It was still coming down, big puffs
of snowflakes falling from a gray sky.

Eleni
looked up to see Fin watching a crowd that had gathered around the
hearth at the center of the encampment. His face was stony as she
stood next to him. His arms were crossed over his chest and she could
see a muscle working in his jaw.

“What
is happening?” she said.

“Magda,”
he said, his voice tight with anger. “Again.”

“Magda
what?” said Eleni.

Fin
looked down at her. His eyes were a blazing green shooting out from
his face. Eleni could feel his anger. It pushed on her like a fist.
She caught her breath.

“You
would not understand, Eleni,” said Fin, his voice hard. “But
you are right not to trust anyone. Magda has called the Carpathian
gods. They are coming.”

Eleni
looked to see that the center of the crowd was made up of the men of
the village. She saw Elek, head and shoulders above the rest, with a
wide smile on his face. The men appeared to be celebrating. They had
their falxes raised over their heads and were repeating a chant. In a
larger circle that seemed to passively circle the tighter circle of
men, stood the women. Some huddled together, their shoulders moving
in unison. Eleni realized they were crying. Not all of them, though.
Some simply stood and watched, their eyes emotionless. A few held
small children or babies. The older children were running around the
encampment, most of them play-fighting. A few had sticks and were
chasing each other with mock-crazed expressions on their faces. Magda
moved among the women, giving them a pat here, a word of
encouragement there.

Eleni
looked up at Fin, who was glaring in Magda's direction. “I do
not understand any of this,” she said. “I don't know what
this means.”

“It
means,” said Fin, without looking at her, “that Magda
deems her own desires to be greater than the very lives of gods. She
may as well be eating out of Loki's hand.” He turned suddenly
and walked into the forest, leaving Eleni standing there.