Loki (31 page)

Odin stood and walked slowly over to Balder’s body. The knowledge that he could have prevented this from happening weighed heavily upon him, but he sloughed it off. None could fathom his burden, could understand the decisions that must be made by him alone.

He put his hand on Balder’s chest and whispered, “Good journey, my son.” And then he turned and quietly walked away, the image of Loki’s Hod guise permanently etched into his mind’s eye.

Chapter Twenty

The gods watched in silent stillness as the servants piled belongings and treasures onto the sturdy and finely-crafted long boat. They formed a long, slow-moving procession, laden with weapons and armor, silver utensils for eating, hollowed-out drinking horns gilt with gold, finely-wrought clothing and tapestries, chests filled with gold, silver, and gems, and other goods that had previously been in Balder’s hall. Each in turn laid the items carefully onto the deck of the boat, mindful to leave a small space around the pyre in the center, the wooden platform upon which lay Balder’s lifeless body.

The procession of servants, deprived of their burdens, filed away with heads hung low. The snake-like file crested a hill, and the row upon row of Asgardians standing shoulder to shoulder parted to allow them to pass. Once the last of the servants had disappeared behind them they closed ranks, creating seamless lines at least ten deep stretching out along the shoreline as far as could be seen. All wore somber looks upon their faces, with jaws clenched in anger.

The Aesir surrounded Balder’s boat, awaiting a final push into the surf.

With a silent nod from Odin, Tyr strode forward into the shallow breakers with torch in hand and set fire to the kindling at the base of the pyre. As the flames rose and Tyr stepped back, Thor walked to the prow. Pausing for a moment while the pyre became slowly engulfed in flames, he grasped either side of the dragon figurehead with his massive hands and pushed the boat out onto the calm, dark sea.

The boat drifted slowly, the flames rising ever higher, climbing up the mast steadily and setting the square sail ablaze, spreading from the pyre to the crossbeams of the deck, and from there to the sides, all the while moving further and further from shore. The assembled gods looked on in silence, none taking their gaze from the fiery last rites.

The reflection on the calm waters created an aura of light as the flames consumed the boat, leaving no part untouched. The fire reached high into the night sky, sparks emanating like fireflies giving one final homage to the lost. The conflagration reached a peak, the warmth from the flames touching those who stood on the shore, before the rapidly disintegrating hull began to fail and the ship started its slow descent into the dark water.

Eyes followed it sink down, the water extinguishing the flames with an audible hiss. The mast remained intact in defiance of the fire that ravaged it—the sail had turned to cinders almost instantly—and it stubbornly remained vertical as the boat descended to the depths, finally disappearing with a brief and final snuffing out of the last of the flames.

And then it was done. What remained of Balder’s body was food for the fishes, and the once-fine longboat that had carried him with speed and steadiness across turbulent seas was no more. He had taken all his prized possessions with him, although even the gods themselves did not really know if they would be of use in Niflheim.

Those on the hills turned first, almost as one, and slowly walked back towards the sanctuary of Asgard to resume their lives. A pall hung over them, and not one failed to consider how this tragic death might signal the beginning of the end. The Aesir lingered for some time before finally approaching Odin, each placing a hand on his shoulder in turn, and walking away with eyes cast down, a slow and staggered procession leading back to their great halls.

Finally he stood alone, still gazing at the empty sea where Balder’s boat had gone down. The High One smiled a rueful, bitter smile. “You may approach,” he said. His voice, despite the low, whispered pitch, projected clearly to the solitary figure on the low, rocky outcropping. “I am alone here, as you sought.”

The bird perched on the rocks that hung over the sea grew larger and changed form till it was no longer a bird, but a man. Loki hesitated only briefly before jumping down to the sandy shore and making his way over to the Allfather.

“
You knew I was here.” Loki paused, waiting for a response before realizing that none was necessary. “Why did you let Balder die?” he asked.

“
Who are you to question my motives? You are less than a flea to one such as I, one who has crafted worlds with his bare hands.” Odin stared at him with menace in his eye. “You put your life at risk in coming here.”

“
If you wanted me dead, you would have acted on it by now,” Loki replied, failing to be intimidated. “Why not point out my presence to Thor? Or Tyr? You did not reveal me to the gathered throng just as you did not reveal me in Gladsheim when I served Balder his final cup of mead. But why?”

Odin turned away and stared out at the empty sea. “You cannot hope to understand.” The menace was absent. In its place was cold apathy.

“
As ever, you misjudge me, Allfather. I know far more than you give me credit for. Perhaps the other Aesir would be interested to know how we locked eyes in Gladsheim, how I gained your approval for my dark deed.”

“
They would not believe you. You are the Father of Lies.”

Loki was nonplussed. “So it is said. Still, there could be insinuated the tiniest doubt, which would be fed till it bore sour fruit. What would they think of the High One then, when it is finally revealed that you as much as murdered your own son, and in conjunction with he who is most hated in Asgard?”

Odin turned to look at him, the expression on his face impossible to read. “You will not tell. I have foreseen it, just as I have foreseen all that has led to this moment, and all that follows. Do not fool yourself that you rule your destiny.”

Loki felt cold annoyance rising in him. He should have expected that Odin would attempt to diminish what he had done. He stabbed back at him with his words. “And what is my destiny? To sow discord and misery throughout Asgard? I have done at least some of that.”

“
You bring forth what must be brought forth. You begin what must be begun.”

“
You speak in riddles. You still have not answered my question.”

“
There will come a time—sooner than you dream—when you will lament what you have set in motion. Your suffering will be great, greater than any who have ever existed. And it will turn your heart even blacker than it already is.” He paused, narrowing his eye at Loki, gauging the effect his words had on him. “None can comprehend my purpose, and you are only an ignorant pawn being moved by my unseen hand. You flatter yourself to think that you are of higher import than that.”

Loki refused to be taunted. “You do not lessen my revenge for your petty manipulations. I have taken one from you, and you do not fool me that the wound does not go deep into Asgard’s heart.”

“
It was a necessary death.”

“
If only the other Aesir realized your scheming. Who will you sacrifice next for your grand purpose?”

Odin glared at him silently, and Loki was chilled by his cold stare. “I will see the Nine Worlds burned. And you and I will meet one last time. Then you will learn the truth of my manipulations, to your sorrow.”

With difficulty, Loki forced down his awe of the High One. “I have no need to continue on this path. I have taken from you, and need do no more than let the wound fester. From here on, our paths diverge.”

Turning his head to stare at the empty sea where Balder’s boat went down into eternity, he felt again a satisfaction at what he had done. Odin could never take back Balder's murder. And he would never be free of the terrible knowledge that he had let it happen.

He closed his eyes and felt his form grow smaller, lighter. With a flap of his newly-formed wings, he soared off towards Midgard.

Loki stared out at the stream, his eyes following it as it wound down to the sharp cliff, where the water fell over the side in a continuous rush to the sea below. It was not wide or deep enough to be called a river, but neither was stream the most fitting designation. It moved quickly and submerged him up to his waist in parts. Its span was wider than a strong horse could leap, and as it made its way down the gradual slope it was hindered by rocks that had fallen from higher up on the mountain side.

It would be hard to catch a fish in this stream, he thought, which was why he had chosen this very location.

He knew that the impending confrontation with the Aesir was inevitable. All would learn that it was he who had killed Balder, and this was as he had wanted it. The anguish would be greater if they knew it was he. He wanted them to realize that it was their own actions that had brought this upon them. How much more would they feel the pain of Balder's loss once they learned that their own misdeeds had come back to haunt them?

He wondered what they might do to him if they caught him. Surely there would be no instant death; they would want him to suffer. He was not fool enough to think he could withstand them should they come together. But he did not need to withstand them if he could elude them.

He had built the shack quickly, shifting himself into a giant so that his strength and size were greatly increased. In this form he could easily carry much more and work much faster, and he availed himself of the trees and large rocks nearby to construct a shelter that could almost be called a house, although it was somewhat smaller. Still, it was sturdily constructed, and would serve its purpose till they came.

But was it inevitable that they find him? He had taken precautions—a remote location far from any who might see him, his own power used to dispel traces of his presence so that he appeared to be nowhere, other measures that might serve to blind those who sought him. It was said that Odin could see all when he looked out over the Nine Worlds, but many things were said on Asgard, and many of them were not true or even possible. Odin’s vision was far and wide, but perhaps it was not all-seeing. Perhaps he had taken enough precautions to prevent himself from being discovered.

It was useless to ponder things he could not control, and so he instead thought on those he could. The stream, at least, provided an easy escape route should they find him. And if this proved necessary, then he would go somewhere else. In time he would find what he sought, and then running would be unnecessary.

He sat down on the ground and closed his eyes. The power flowed seamlessly out of him now, coming instantly when bidden. It felt more like an intimate piece of his person than an outside thing, and he had learned to manipulate it for purposes other than shifting.

He felt it flow out in dozens of slim, questing tendrils, each taking a different path. In moments they had scanned hundreds of leagues, each seeking signs of the two he sought. He did not know how long it would take, and the Nine Worlds were vast, but he felt sure that he would find them. He had time enough for now. He would find his sons, and when he did, the need for retreat would be over. Then would be the time for facing the Aesir on their own terms. Together they would raise armies that would make the gods tremble.

Chapter Twenty-One

Loki stood on the edge of a deep pit, so deep that the blackness swallowed the bottom. He knew, however, that it was not bottomless, that there was something down there. He had been brought here, but he did not know how or by whom.

There was a sense of pain and anguish, and he heard low groans of agony rising up out of the pit. At first they came from one source, but as he listened closer, he realized there were hundreds of low voices there, perhaps thousands, just beyond his sight in the blackness below. He could not make out what was being said, but he thought they spoke to him. He got down on his knees and leaned further over the edge to hear the voices more clearly.

Fear crawled across him like a wave of spiders. Something was down there that he did not want to see, and yet he knew that it must be revealed. As he leaned over further, there was the sensation of falling, the desperate wheeling of hands to grab onto something before he spilled forward and fell headlong into the pit.

He stood on some sort of shifting ground, ensconced in the darkness at the bottom of the pit. He did not remember striking ground after he fell, but as he craned his head back, he could see a small circle of light far above him.

He walked slowly forward, the ground shifting and pulsing underneath his feet like a living thing, the moaning of voices louder and yet more indistinct; more like an amorphous group who all spoke at once, but none of whom could do more than moan in despair. As he put one foot precariously in front of the other, he realized that he was being slowly funneled forward, the voices leading him toward something. He was not sure that he wanted to continue, but he knew that he must, that he was being led towards a revelation.

In his periphery he could see movement. It was slow and shambling, and there were snatches of pale white that appeared and then melted back into the surrounding darkness. He could also hear raspy, labored breathing, and the sound of wet flesh rubbing against wet flesh. The smell was fetid and rotten, but there was a strange and pleasant undercurrent, something that redeemed it in some way that was unclear.