Loki (2 page)

The servant did not know this, of course, and Loki flashed him a wolfish grin the next time he glanced back. The servant's pace increased up the stairs, and he hurriedly opened the door at the top, stepping out of the god's way and keeping his head bowed low. Loki walked into the room without another thought about him.

Odin stood with his back to Loki as he approached. He gazed out the window over the wide expanse of Asgard.

“
You summoned me, Allfather?” Loki said.

There was no answer. Loki stepped closer. “High One?” he said.

“
You have returned from Jotunheim, I see.” Odin did not turn. “Were you successful?”

“
Yes, Allfather. Mjolnir is back in the hands of its rightful owner.” It was strange, Loki thought, to be telling Odin information that he already knew, but it was ever the way of the Allfather.

“
Tell me how it went with the giant.”

Loki stepped closer. The Allfather still stared out the tall window, failing to register Loki with even a casual glance. He did not mind, however. Odin had the weight of the Nine Worlds on his shoulders, and he could not be expected to dismiss the fate of creation for a ritual greeting. Besides, he was the Allfather, the High One, and above notions that might apply to the rest of them.

“
From Thor's discovery of his missing hammer?”

“
No. Begin from the transformation.”

Loki nodded. “I spoke the sacred runes and saw the Thunderer change before me. His beard thinned and disappeared, his skin grew softer, his hips grew wider, and his height grew by two-fold.”

“
Who provided the clothes?”

“
Sif did, Allfather. It was a simple task to increase their size to fit Thor's new frame.”

“
What was Thor's reaction?”

Loki smiled to remember it. It was a sight he would not soon forget, and he would relish bringing it up from time to time so that Thor could be reminded of his humiliation.

“
His eyes shown like lightning, Allfather. His rage was only kept in check by the reminder that he would soon have his hammer in hand. He had favored an attack on the giants from the start, but relented when I convinced him that they would never bring Mjolnir from its hiding spot, and that slaying the giants might cause it to remain hidden forever. But he was not happy to be wed to a broad-shouldered son of Jotunheim.”

Odin nodded, still gazing out the window. If he found the story humorous he didn't show it. “And your own transformation?”

“
Like Thor's, it was mere trickery, of course. But I grew as well, and donned one of Sigyn's gowns. Thor's anger would not allow me to disguise his voice, so I had to attend him as handmaiden to speak for him. But I would have attended anyway. I would not have wanted to miss the wedding feast.”

“
When was the hammer brought out?”

“
It took some time, Allfather. The giant was intent on satisfying his new bride, so he had his finest foods brought to her. He was surprised by her appetite, as Thor downed nine plates overflowing with meat, and washed it down with nine large horns of mead.”

“
But he did not see through the spell?”

“
No, Allfather. Nor did any of the other giants present. They were too eager to see what they wanted to see, and maybe overconfident after the theft of Mjolnir.”

“
They thought to march on Asgard using Thor's own hammer against us.”

“
As you say, Allfather. But it was not to be. The giant showered Thor with presents. Thor tossed them all aside, as a fastidious bride might do. The giant saved the hammer for the final gift, undoubtedly thinking that the most fearsome weapon ever crafted would impress her. It was his last mistake.”

“
Thor was able to contain himself till then?”

“
Yes, Allfather, although I could see the lightning in his eyes and the storm brewing on his brow. But any longer and I am not sure he would have been able to hold back his fury.”

“
And then all would have been lost.”

“
As you say, Allfather.” Loki was not entirely certain that was true, but he would never openly question Odin's judgment.

“
What happened when the hammer was brought out?”

“
Once it was laid in front of Thor, a smile stretched across his features. I saw the giant smile wide, as well, content that he was finally able to please his bride. But his smile did not last for long. As soon as Thor grasped the handle of Mjolnir and hefted the hammer up, the disguise dissolved. If there would have been time for surprise, I am sure the gathered giants would have registered it, but Thor gave no opportunity for that. He swung Mjolnir wide and slaughtered every giant in the room. If I had not gotten out of the way, I might have fallen victim as well.”

Odin nodded solemnly before slowly turning. He faced Loki and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have done well, my son. Were it not for your craftiness, Asgard might have fallen to the sons of Jotunheim.”

As Odin looked down at him, Loki marked the lines on his face and noted how much the Allfather had aged since the first time he had seen him. He still remembered it, although it was a distant memory, or even a memory of a memory, but it was there all the same. The face that now looked down upon him bore the same expression he had first seen all those eons ago. It was his earliest memory, and he could almost feel his swaddling cloth around him while he looked up at the one who had rescued him when his parents had been killed by the giants.

“
Thank you, Allfather. Although it would be best if I avoided Thor for some time. I only pray that his satisfaction in reclaiming Mjolnir makes him forget that he had to become a giant's bride to regain it.”

Odin smiled slightly, a rare sight. “The episode will fade in time. Be content that you have served Asgard. No other could have done what you have.”

Loki bowed, and Odin turned back to the window, once more gazing out across Asgard. The audience over, he backed out of the room and swiftly made his way down through the winding stairwells and corridors of Valaskjalf.

The rest of the Aesir would not look upon his role in this as a boon to Asgard, but the Allfather recognized his contribution. For now, it was enough.

* * *

Deep in his storm home, Thiazi felt waves of chaos strike him, sending constricting pains deep into his body and forcing him to double over in agony. The pain subsided for an instant, but he was struck again, worse than the first time, and he fell to the ground curled up in a tight ball, waiting for the pain to pass.

The chaos washing over him was stronger than any he had ever encountered. His own chaos energy had risen instinctively when it had felt the first wave of power touch him, and it had set up a defense that was riven almost instantly, sending radiating spokes of pain through him. Grinding his teeth while he lay on the stone floor, he willed his energy to lessen its defense—slowly so as not to be subsumed by the assault—until he could interweave it with the chaos assaulting him.

Eventually the pain dwindled down to a dull thudding ache, and he was able to rise to his feet. He probed the invading chaos to see what kind of enemy he faced. He had never felt such raw power before, but as he sent tendrils out to probe the waves of invisible force, he was surprised to discover that there was no intent in the assault. He was not, as he initially assumed, attacked. Rather, the waves were the natural emanations of . . . something of greater power than he had ever encountered.

He made his way through the meandering halls of his keep and up spiraling stairs, finally stepping out onto a tall tower where he could see anything that might be approaching. The chaos force had been so strong that he expected he might find an army of fire giants at his door, or perhaps even Black Surt, the Lord of Fire, come to claim a facet of himself left over from before creation. At first he saw nothing, which was even more surprising, and somehow more disturbing.

After long moments of gazing out at the road that led up to Thrymheim, he saw a sole figure approaching, so far away as to be little but a speck. He could scarcely believe it, but it seemed that the waves of power that had laid him low emanated from this solitary creature. He continued to watch as the figure made his way steadily towards the gates of Thrymheim.

The figure was a giant, but aside from the chaos that radiated from him, did not look exceptional. He disappeared from Thiazi's view as he drew closer to the gates, and Thiazi stood looking out over the path, feeling the chaos stronger than ever. There was no longer any pain; he had made his own chaos to be a part of the far more powerful energy of the giant.

He suspected that his visitor was not fully aware of the potential he contained. Thiazi had thought that his own ability to wield chaos made him the strongest in Jotunheim. The power flowing from the giant at his gates made his own seem non-existent.

He looked towards the rainbow bridge that was only hinted at from this distance. The enemies of the giants were just beyond, but who knew when they might lead their legions of undead warriors and ghost-maidens across it to storm Jotunheim. The red-bearded wielder of the lightning hammer alone had slain hundreds of giants, slaughtering without regard. He showed up for no other reason than to wreak havoc, and did not leave until every giant he faced was dead. The others were little better, and every inhabitant of Jotunheim knew that the day would come when they would march on the land of the giants.

He heard the booming sound of fist on the wooden doors below. His servants would seek him out for instructions, and he would have them let this visitor in. He would listen to his reasons for coming to Thrymheim, and then he would craft a way to use his power to help him destroy the gods.

Heimdall woke to the sound of footfalls on Bifrost. He rose from his bed to stare out the window, the rainbow bridge only a stone’s throw from his keep. His ability to see vast distances and hear sounds from hundreds of leagues away were exaggerated by those who told tales of such things, but his senses were still far more keen than any other of the Aesir. Because of this, it was his duty to stand watch at the entry to Asgard.

He turned at the sound of servants entering, one carrying a tray of food and drink, the other armor and weapons. They could anticipate his needs almost before he was aware of them.

“
An intruder on Bifrost, my lord?”

“
So it seems.” He grabbed bread and a cup of mead from the tray, tore off a chunk with his teeth and downed it with a swallow of the syrupy-sweet liquid. His breath sent out plumes in the cold castle air, but the weather did not bother him. He was used to the cold clime, and it was the beginning of winter, after all. The mortals down below on Midgard may imagine the High Realm being one of eternal summer, but Asgardian winters were no less cold.

He glanced out the window again, attempting to see if the intruder was in sight. He could hear the footfalls, but he could not see the intruder yet. His vigilance often saw threats where there were none, so he automatically thought of the unknown person as an intruder. Better to see a threat where none existed, he thought, than assume peaceful intentions and be caught unaware.

“
My horn,” he said, just as a third servant came in with Gjall, shining and golden, seated in its case. He put his armor on, not quickly, but with enough purpose so as not to waste time, and strapped on his sword. He hung Gjall on his belt as well. He rarely needed it, but would not leave without the horn, for who knew when the giants might march on Asgard?

It bothered him that he could not yet see the intruder. Something seemed amiss, but he could not understand what it might be. There were six individual footfalls, and he could tell by the gait that it was a lone traveler with a horse in tow. The sounds of their footfalls seemed heavy at times, and lighter at others. It was as though their weight shifted as they came closer. Perhaps they were shedding supplies, he thought, but he could hear no other sounds that might indicate a sloughing off of items. He put it out of his head for the moment as he left the keep and rode out to the edge of Asgard, where Bifrost arced down to Midgard.

Heimdall planted himself in the center of the path, directly in the way of the intruder and his horse. It wasn’t long before he could see them both, but his sense of unease was not quelled. They appeared as he had expected based on the sounds of their approach. Although they were still leagues away, he could see that it was a lone mortal leading a single horse.

There was something unusual about the traveler, but he could no longer detect anything strange about his gait. He found himself relaxing his guard somewhat. If this mortal and his horse were a threat, then at least they appeared far less threatening than the thundering mass of giants he expected to come crashing down on Asgard one day, and he had no doubts that he could keep this solitary figure from holy ground if need be.

It was a long while until the traveler reached him, but when he did Heimdall saw nothing terribly remarkable about him. He looked strong, but not unnaturally so, and he could say the same for his horse. He considered that his original estimation was faulty, that too many years of guarding the path to Asgard might have caused him to see threats that were not really there.

Still, he eyed the two warily. The man had no apparent weapons, but did carry a bag over his shoulder. He could hear the clink of tools—hammers, chisels, wedges, and the like. The horse was likewise burdened. The traveler—a mason, clearly—was simply dressed, and his face bore the marks of one who had toiled under a hot sun or with an icy wind constantly barraging his face. His hands were rough as well; Heimdall could hear his fingers scraping together, the sound like grating sand on skin.