The Last Praetorian (17 page)

“What do you know about that?” Tarion’s eyes narrowed to blade-like slits.

“Noble Tarius springs back to life just long enough to warn you that you are to find the Wanderer;
I’m thinking it was a trap set up by the Destructor. Do I guess wrong?” As Tarion’s brow rose, he added the important part; the part Loki was keenly interested in. “He also bequeathed to you a singular diamond; an empty diamond.”

Tarion’s brows drew together in thought, but he didn’t seem shocked at Loki’s knowledge. In fact, he nodded, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. “I have to admit Loki, there’s nothing about you that surprises me anymore. In the game of subterfuge there is no one as brilliant!”
He leaned back, and added, “Where did you get the information? Let me guess: your son!”

“My son, what does he have to do with it?” Loki said, feigning ignorance.

Tarion shook his head and laughed. “As I suspected. Tell Fenrir to steer clear of me. If Brokk’s blade can pierce your skin then your son will be just as vulnerable.” He leaned forward and his Praetorian brows drew together in a grim scowl. “I’m quite certain Thor would welcome a wolf skin carpet in front of his fireplace!”

Loki smiled broadly,
replying, “I appreciate the warning. I don’t think Fenrir will be dissuaded—he’s a hotheaded sort—but he’ll be touched that you care.”

Tarion’s demeanor grew grimmer, if that were possible.
“I like you Loki, despite myself, I always have. Maybe that’s why your betrayals are so much more difficult to endure. I’m thinking the best way to hold the rest of this conversation is with your head Loki—just your head.” The Praetorian smiled wryly; it was a most unpleasant expression for his countenance.

Loki began to remark on this, but Tarion
triggered his wristblade—something he’d been doing a lot with Loki lately. Loki froze. Tarion appeared to be in a rare mood, fully capable of murder.

“Now let’s be quite clear about this, my old friend. Considering our past adventures I owe you that
,” Tarion smiled mirthlessly. It didn’t make Loki feel any better, God though he was. “I don’t care about your betrayals so much; that’s to be expected when dealing with you. What I care about is not in your heart,” he poked Loki in the chest. Then he tapped the Devil-God on the forehead. “It’s in that twisted thing of genius you call a brain.” Tarion’s eyes narrowed again. “You know something that can help or destroy me. You’re still playing both sides. What is it about that stone you want to entice me with in exchange for entrapping me?”

Loki swallowed hard. In answer, he directed the blue sapphire to roll down his arm and land on the table in front of Tarion.

“You want me to exchange the diamond for this—why? What does the sapphire have that would be worth breaking an oath to my father?”

“Release,” Loki told him, guessing Tarion’s mind. “The stone will release you from your taskings, your responsibilities and above all the expectations of the world!” Loki had Tarion’s attention now. “This stone will give you what you crave: your life back. You don’t have to worry about being the Praetorian, finding the Wanderer or saving the world; you get to be Tarion. You can settle down in
Gotthab with lovely Aubrey or any other girl and live out your life in peace. Isn’t that what you truly want?”

Tarion was thinking. Loki struck a nerve. He had only to tie it up in a nice bow of logic to finish the Praetorian off. It almost surprised Loki
. Inwardly he felt disappointed. Tarion was the most responsible man he’d ever known, and certainly, the man most saddled with responsibility. That such a simple gift, such a blatant ruse, could sway him was somehow deflating. Still, he had a job to do.

“A stone for a stone, peace for peace,” Loki said evenly, putting all his powers of persuasion into the selling of it. “Oh I know you worry about your oath, but you’re not breaking it. The diamond will call the Wanderer, and so it will. The Wanderer and the Destructor met on Yggdrasil and it is their fate to meet again and so decide the fate of the world. That’s what all this is about.
”

Loki leaned forward as Tarion leaned away, keeping his presence close, intimate. He put forth all of his power.
“Why do you need to go knocking about through the world to accomplish in years what can be done tonight?” The Trickster snatched up the sapphire and held it up. “This gives you peace for your life. Whatever happens in the world outside you will have your world inside. You get everything you wish: a house, a wife, children, even your parents back together if you so desire. All of it will be as real as this is,” he motioned to the tavern. “All you have to do is give me the diamond.”

Tarion withdrew the blade and sat back in his chair, his features drained of all power and vitality. “I’m tired of fighting everyone else’s battles.”

Loki held out the stone.

Tarion put down his
ale and reached for it.

#

Loki held out the sapphire, grinning, but instead Tarion took the God by the throat and lifted him out of his seat. He stood Loki on his toes, tickling the God’s ribs with the point of his blade. “Do you think I would so quickly forget my oath to my father? After years of travelling together, is that all you think of me?”

“So that’s it, your father made you swear an oath—to what?”

“What?” Once again, Loki defied Tarion’s staunch logic. Here he was ready to skewer the God, but Loki was going on about something else entirely.

“What did your father ask you to do that required an oath?” Loki’s demeanor gave no hint that he was in mortal danger. Rather it was as if he played the entire scene up for this purpose. “Tarion, this is important; what is it you’re bound to do?”

Tarion released Loki and collapsed in his chair. What did Loki know? Whatever it was, he couldn’t let him in on the truth of the Wanderer’s weakness. “I’m to find the Wanderer; the diamond will help me find him.”

Loki’s brows rose until they almost disappeared beneath his sandy hair. He stroked his narrow, pointed beard and slowly shook his head. Sitting down, he mused, “So Midgard’s great mystery deepens. Did Tarius know why the Wanderer didn’t face the Destructor at Durnen-Gul?”

Tarion laughed and turned back to his ale. “Isn’t that what everyone has been asking, including your master?”

Loki chuckled, and said, “Well said! Still, where could he be; everyone
. I mean every one, has been looking for him for over an age. Why do you think no one has found him?”

“I don’t know, and even if I did,” Tarion began, but Loki interrupted him, a sharp gleam in his eyes.

“You wouldn’t tell me, I know.” Loki pursed his lips and his face became a severe scowl. “Listen, I’m trying to work with you, Tarion. I’ve always liked you. I only have your best interests in mind!” He meant to smile in as sincere a manner as possible, but quite suddenly, his tongue felt as though it was dipped in Und’s own brimstone. He yelped in pain, grabbing his jack of ale and dousing his burning mouth. It didn’t help.

Tarion laughed, exposing the wergild given to him by the Bishop. It was glowing
. He said, “The Creator hasn’t forgotten about you Loki; that should comfort you! Now why don’t you try the truth before more than your tongue burns?”

The Trickster shook his head angrily, admitting, “There’s no hiding from the Creator! Oh very well, you know the Dread Lord tasks me. You know he wants you under his thumb, as bait for the Wanderer. Believe me; you don’t want to be where he wants to put you!”

The Trickster rested his head on his long fingered hand, the fingers absently stroked his beard as if ever sharpening its point. “That’s what I’m here for; that’s my business—you!” Loki ran his fingers through his lank hair, glancing to both sides. He whispered, “I’ll be straight with you Tarion. My business is all about the Destructor’s dominion. I have a place there, you understand, but being the Duke of Pandemonium isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—I want an alternative. You see Tarion; I know what the Wanderer can do. I’ve seen him. He has a chance, slight though it may seem, to prevent the Destructor’s dominion. While that chance exists, I need to give myself a place in that reality as well. Do you see?”

“I understand your position Loki,” Tarion said carefully.

Loki picked up the sapphire and put it in his tunic. Then he thought better about it, or so he wished to make it seem, and set it on the table again. With a flip of his gangly fingers, he started it spinning. “Why not,” he shrugged. “Take it as a token of my sincerity. There are no strings attached Tarion. It’s the heart of a storm elemental,
Victus Ventus.
It is similar in nature to the heart of an earth elemental, the
Terra Ventus
; in that, properly removed and cured this has very special powers. The
Terra Ventus
transports you through the earth. This little bauble does so through the air; it will take you to the corners of the earth if you wish. It might come in very useful in your search for the Wanderer. Take it as a token, I ask nothing of you in return.”

#

Tarion wrestled with his self-doubt. After a long draught of ale, he asked himself what his gut instincts were. That was plain. Loki was not to be trusted and anything he had in mind Tarion should avoid. The urge to refuse grew even stronger, but Tarion’s self-doubt was a powerful motivator. His father said he’d need help. Loki’s clues enabled them to put off the Destructor’s dominion. Without his help, the game would be irrevocably lost. Could the Wanderer be the one behind this stone?

He reached for the sapphire, but as he was about to take it a hand grabbed his wrist. It was slight, fair and completely transparent. Tarion looked up to see the specter of a tall elf.

The elf wasn’t looking at him. In a thin, tortured voice the elf said, “Enough Loki, Tarion doesn’t need your help.”

“Alfrodel!” Loki exclaimed irritably. “Wasn’t death, exile and eternal damnation enough for you? Beware, Elf King and don’t interfere with my errands!”

The elf laughed in a fluttering sort of way that was altogether tragic and said, “There’s nothing you can do to me, Loki. Now get you gone before I tell Tarion what that stone was about to do. Your hide isn’t as thick as that of Gaurnothax!”

“Alright, Alfrodel, but you misconstrue my motives—somewhat at least.” He looked at Tarion with a strange twisted smile. “I’m sorry Tarion, I wish you well and I really mean that. You and I were friends once and who knows what the future might bring. Alfrodel will have some weary tales to tell, but listen up, mind you, they’re important. Watch your back! We’ll meet again before too long, one way, or another.” He took the sapphire and disappeared.

The shade watched Loki go and turned on Tarion with unmistakable anger. “Are you mad? I didn’t dare the tedium of Limbo just to watch you destroy my world in a single day!”

Tarion stared at the ghost, wondering why he should intercede on Tarion’s behalf, but Loki’s game was uppermost in his mind. “What is it you saved me from, Alfrodel?”

“He wanted to send you to the Destructor, Tarion! Isn’t that enough? You’re not strong enough; indeed, no one is strong enough for that interview. Don’t tempt the Norns, Tarion. They are fickle in their favors, believe me.”

“Your hints mean nothing to me, Alfrodel. What’s this about?”

Alfrodel was incredulous. “You gained my trust and used it to destroy me, Tarion.”

Tarion was too stunned to answer.

The ghost clasped his transparent brow and wailed, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be an elven ghost? I can’t live in the world and I can’t die and become one with the world! I’ve been relegated to deathly mortality!”

The tavern grew noticeably quiet. Everyone was staring at Alfrodel.

The elf turned away. “I opened the gate for the Wanderer as promised. I’ve done enough. I don’t owe you anything more.” He wafted through the crowd. Folk looked after him, but more out of curiosity, as if his appearance wasn’t unusual and he drifted toward the door.

Tarion cursed under his breath and went after the ghost. “Alfrodel don’t turn your back on me!”

Alfrodel sailed through the door and Tarion ran headlong into it before realizing he’d have to open it. There was some scattered laughter. He threw the portal open and rushed outside.

It was cold and dark after the warmth of the common room. Tarion’s breath steamed. The ghost wasn’t on the porch. Looking around Tarion spied Alfrodel glimmering by the river. He ran after him. When he caught up to the ghost, he asked, “Why haunt me if you’re not going to enlighten me, Alfrodel? Where is the Wanderer? Answer me!”

Alfrodel turned and smiled thinly, saying, “I don’t know, Tarion. What little I do know would only serve to confound you further.”

“Then why haunt me?”

Alfrodel turned on Tarion and his eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Because somehow you are the only hope of this world, my world, that’s why! I sacrificed my life to open the gate from Limbo and lead the Wanderer to the mortal world—you and your father set that trap for me. Now he’s free of Limbo, but he will not face the Destructor.”

“Why didn’t he face the Destructor when you called him?”

“I can only guess that he was too weak; what I saw was but a shadow of a man. His life-force was barely discernable from the gray on gray world that is Limbo; the spark of his immortal spirit was that close to going out for all time.”