Dark Devotion: Dark Series 3 (2 page)

Odin’s eyes narrowed on Fenrir, scanning his face. “Your son?”

“His current form is unfamiliar to you, but I’m sure those golden eyes will convince you I’m telling the truth.”

Loki watched Odin’s study of Fenrir once more, his eyes widening when realization struck.

“Fenrir?” he asked.

Loki nodded.

“What magic created this?” the All-Father asked in a harsh and disbelieving whisper.

Loki smiled and shrugged. There were still some things the All-Father did not know, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“When will his form return?”

Again, Loki shrugged, infuriating Odin.

“Why did you bring him here? The light elves are gentle, peace-loving beings.”

“What better reason than that?” he retorted.

Odin looked over the bloody and broken bodies of the women splayed across the floor, their robes askew, revealing their already bruising bodies. “Why?”

It was only one question, but it was loaded with so much more meaning.

Once more, Loki shrugged. There were a million different reasons why; he didn’t like to see his son suffering; he wanted to see what would happen if Fenrir was released upon the world …

Loki was bored.

“You are both returning with me to Asgard, where Fenrir will be returned to his true form.”

Fenrir snarled down low in his throat at Odin’s threatening tone. The All-Father’s gaze fixed on him, challenging him to try something. Loki reached out and motioned for his son to stop.

“We will return with you, Odin, but whether or not Fenrir will transform back into a wolf is not up to me.”

*

Running his hand through Freki’s ruff while Geri sat at his feet, Odin closed his eyes against the bloody images burned into his retinas. He could not believe what he’d seen. The women at the brothel were not the only ones to have suffered at Fenrir’s hand, but at least they were still breathing. Fenrir had laid waste to the men at the tavern. Not one of them had survived his fury. Arms and legs had been removed; hearts had been dug from chests as if Fenrir had wolf’s claws rather than a man’s fingers.

Odin knew Fenrir was a dangerous creature, but Loki was starting to look more dangerous. His unpredictability alone was enough to warrant a higher degree of caution. Fenrir’s many years of restriction to Asgard were necessary, but now Odin realized that he’d grown lax, especially in his vigilance of Loki.

With a thought, Odin faded from his palace in Asgard and traveled to Nidavellir, to the home of the dwarves. It was a dark land with impenetrable, black, jagged mountains rising from the ground like daggers. The air was infused with petrichor, the smell of rain on dry earth. A few sparse trees dotted the landscape, but serrated chunks of black stone prevented any other type of vegetation from growing. Although the sun did try to break through the thick clouds hovering over the mountains, it did little to bring any light to the landscape.

Despite the dimness, the palatial home of the dwarf king loomed ahead of Odin. Made of gold and gems, the whole building glowed as if backlit, the gems gleaming brilliantly. A path of gold led the way to the front gates, proof of Hreidmar’s avarice. Odin walked the short length, knocking on the golden door and waiting.

A few minutes passed and then the small sliding door in the center of the larger door slid open, revealing the stone-colored eyes and bulbous nose of a dwarf. His flinty eyes narrowed for a moment before widening.

“All-Father? What are you doing here?”

“I have come to see the king.”

“Yes, of course,” the dwarf stammered, quickly sliding the door closed. The larger golden door swung open a moment later. Odin’s gaze fell low to the ground, taking in the small creature looking up at him. Only coming up to Odin’s hip, the dwarves were a small, ugly race of beings. This dwarf was dressed in a dark gray tunic and pants, both made from a rough fabric that reminded Odin of the crude shale covering the land around the palace.

But despite their small stature and hideous appearance, the dwarves were experts in smithing and crafting, and a valuable tool to Odin.

“Is the king expecting you?”

Odin smiled. “No, I don’t believe he is.”

“Follow me, then, and I’ll take you to him. He would want to see you.”

As they walked, Odin glanced around at the building Hreidmar called home. Everywhere he looked, he saw the king’s greed. Precious rubies and diamonds were embedded in the walls, around the windows and doorways. Even the floor was inlaid with sapphires of the deepest blues and amethysts large enough to rival the size of his fist.

They eventually came upon an intricately carved golden door, a large gilded knocker in the shape of a dragon’s head placed somewhere near Odin’s knee. As the dwarf knocked on the door, the rubies of the dragon’s eyes glittered with the movement.

“Enter,” came the booming voice beyond the door. Odin’s escort gave him a small smile and pushed against the solid gold. Inside, Odin squinted against the brightness of the room, the sconces on the walls reflecting back the radiance of the gilded surfaces.

“Odin, my old friend; it’s been too long,” Hreidmar said, drawing the All-Father’s attention his way. The king of the dwarves was only slightly taller than the man who had led Odin to Hreidmar, but his features were much the same.

Flint-colored eyes.

A large, misshapen nose.

A shaggy beard.

But there was one thing to distinguish him from any other dwarf in his kingdom. And that was the ostentatious crown perched on top of his head. Diamonds traced the scalloped edge of the crown, which was made from a mix of yellow and rose gold. A combination of rubies, emeralds and sapphires adorned the curved edges wrapping around Hreidmar’s head.

“It has been too long, Hreidmar. How are you fairing?”

The old dwarf gave him a broad smile that showed his yellow teeth. Gesturing to the small seat beside him, he said to Odin, “Please,” before lowering himself onto his golden throne. “Been doing just fine, Odin. What can I do for you?”

Giving the king a nod, Odin took the other seat, shifting to get into a comfortable position, which proved nearly impossible. Gold was not a forgiving metal to sit on.

“I have come to collect what you owe me.”

Hreidmar’s gray brows rose slightly. The dwarves were a self-sufficient race, but they still needed help from time to time. And Odin had provided them with it in their hour of need. But Odin never wanted to have the roles reversed; to be indebted to the dwarves meant to promise something without knowing what it might be. It could be small like jewels or gold, or it could be large like the gifting of a child for nefarious purposes.

Hreidmar sat back into his throne, carefully studying Odin. “What is it that you need of me, All-Father?”

That was simple: he needed a way to control Loki. Imprisoning him had crossed his mind before, but he always decided against it; he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it – his love for Loki was just too strong. But family had always been Loki’s weakness, and that was how Odin would gain the upper hand.

“A chain strong enough to bind Fenrir forever.”

“Loki’s son? Is this the same Fenrir of whom you speak?”

Odin nodded, knowing the dwarf had many more questions and bracing himself for them. But … to his surprise, none came. The dwarf king nodded just once and stretched out his hand.

“Agreed. My best craftsman can do that for you.”

“Can you guarantee its strength? Fenrir has broken free of his bindings before. He is a dangerous beast that needs to be taken to heel.”

Hreidmar looked over at the dwarf who had shown Odin in. “Rago, fetch Brok. Tell him to come immediately.”

Rago nodded briskly and excused himself from the room. A few minutes passed before Rago returned with another dwarf. The pair could have been brothers – their likeness was that strong. Brok was the same height as Rago, with the same wiry, gray hair. The only thing to set him apart was the fact that the dwarf had only one eye, a jagged but faded scar criss-crossing where the appendage used to be.

The heavy leather apron hanging from his shoulders almost scraped the ground as he walked to the dwarf king, his shoulders rolling forward as he lowered his head. In his hands, he twisted a pair of leather gloves nervously.

“King Hreidmar, you summoned me?” he asked, his voice like gravel.

“Yes, Brok, I did. I have need of your skills.”

The dwarf looked up. “I would do whatever you ask, my king.”

“You will be paid handsomely for your work, since this is a special task for the All-Father,” Hreidmar said.

Brok turned his attention to Odin. “What do you need, All-Father?”

“A binding strong enough to ensnare and keep Fenrir bound forever.”

The craftsman’s small smile turned into a knowing grin. “I’ve been working on something that would be perfect for that. I call it
gleipnir
, and it has been made with six things that are not of this world, or any of the Nine Worlds.”

Intrigued, Odin sat forward in his seat. “Go on.”

“I created it with the sound of a cat’s footfalls, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the breath of a fish, the spittle of a bird and the sinews of a bear.”

“And where is this binding now?” Hreidmar asked.

“At my workshop.”

“And you are sure of its strength? Fenrir is the largest and fiercest wolf in existence. A simple chain will not suffice.”

Brok met the All-Father’s eyes. “I am sure. If it does not hold, you can feed me to the wolf yourself.”

“Go fetch it then. Let me see it before I decide.”

The craftsman looked to his king first before leaving the large room, his heavy leather boots slamming against the gold floor as he hurried away.

“You will not be disappointed, my friend. Brok is the best we have. I trust him and his products.”

The master craftsman returned no more than ten minutes later with the supposedly unbreakable bonds, but as Odin cast his eye over the object in his hands, he could hardly believe the claim.

Brok’s hands were gently cupping what looked to be nothing more than soft gray ribbon. He offered it to Odin, his head bowed. Skeptical didn’t even begin to cover how Odin was feeling, but he took the proffered ribbon and ran it through his hands.

“What is this?” he demanded, still studying the fragile-looking object.

“
Gleipnir
,” Brok replied. “Don’t be fooled by its appearance. It is much stronger than it seems.”

Odin fixed his green eye on the dwarf. “Impossible.”

Hreidmar’s booming laugh rang out beside Odin. “The All-Father does not believe in your abilities, Brok. Rago, take him and go and fetch the giant we captured trying to pillage from the village. Show the All-Father how much strength
gleipnir
has.”

Both dwarves disappeared out the door. The silence was cut by a thunderous roar, which echoed through the room. Odin sank farther into his seat, his eyes fixed on the open doorway.

Hreidmar’s grin was splitting his face in two, the anticipation shining in his eyes. “A fire giant,” he announced proudly. “He wanted to steal from me.”

“How did you capture it?” Odin quizzed, still watching the doorway. Giants were known to be the physically strongest beings in the Nine Worlds. They were hard to catch and even harder to restrain.

The king’s gaze settled on him, that same smile still firmly in place. Leaning forward, he said, “I’m not in the habit of revealing all my secrets, Odin.”

Odin nodded, turning his face back to the door. Long shadows formed outside, getting shorter as the captive and its master approached.

Brok walked through the door,
gleipnir
firmly wrapped around his fist. Odin followed the other end of the gray ribbon up, up, up until it finished around the throat of the fire giant. With red scales covering its entire body, and two small horns protruding from its head, the creature was dressed in nothing else but a loin cloth. Odin wasn’t sure if it was a male or a female as both sexes wore the same thing and looked the same. The fire giant’s red eyes scanned the room as it hunched over to get through the doorway. As it straightened, Odin could see there were wounds on its body. Shallow cuts covered its chest, but they looked to have been self-inflicted.

As Brok gave one last tug, the giant began gripping the ribbon with its huge hands, trying to break it – but no matter how much it struggled, it could not sever the bond. Intrigued, Odin stood up and took a step toward the pair.

“It’s quite safe,” Brok said, yanking violently on
gleipnir
. The giant bellowed in pain. The ribbon tightened around its neck and it fell to its knees. The whole room shuddered with the impact, the flames in the sconces flickering.

Odin walked up to the now felled giant and studied it. He had business with the giants, but that business was always conducted at a distance and through intermediaries. Up close, he could see the iridescent sheen to its scales, and the almost fragile makeup of its horns. The giant’s red eyes were defiant, yet broken at the same time. Odin did not know what its fate would be, but if it had been trying to steal from the dwarves as Hreidmar claimed, then its punishment would be drawn out and bloody.

Brok handed the thin ribbon to Odin. “See how little effort is needed to control it.”

The All-Father took the end of
gleipnir
and gave it the smallest tug. The giant howled in pain as the noose around its neck tightened further. With its clawed hands, it attempted to shred
gleipnir
, but no matter how much it tried, it could not undo what had been done.

Odin studied the knot. “How is that possible?” he asked.

“Only the hand which ties the bonds has the ability to undo them. There is nothing stronger than
gleipnir
in all the Nine Worlds.”

Odin felt sick to his stomach. This was the only way he could see to secure Fenrir successfully. This was the only way he could bring Loki into line again. He wished it hadn’t come to this, but Loki had made his bed when he’d transformed Fenrir into a man. Now he would have to lie in it.