Loki (10 page)

Chapter Six

Their words danced on the edge of his thoughts as he made the journey back to Asgard. He had found himself outside of the tree, his horse still where he had left it, almost as if it had been mere minutes since he had seen the animal. He swiftly rode it back towards the spires of Asgard, all the while pondering what the Norns had revealed—not much—and even more what they had hinted at.

They had called him child of chaos, harbinger of twilight, thief of time. He did not know what those things meant, and yet was certain they meant something. He could concoct a thousand explanations for those epithets and still not truly know what they meant.
Monsters will issue forth from you . . . You straddle two worlds . . . The answer is within you.

He was not foolhardy enough to dismiss their riddles, but decided that he could not pursue them while the threat of the mason still hung over his head. Some of what they had said seemed more relevant to the problem at hand, while others touched on distant things.
You will be father and mother to your answer,
they had said. There was a sliver of truth there, if only he could pull it forth. He hoped a revelation would come once he returned to Asgard. He would seek the mason, as they had told him.
You are one and the same.
Perhaps he would understand what they meant once he found the mason.

His return was speedy. His mount was completely replenished while it grazed on the grasses at the foot of Yggdrasil, and it ran without complaint and without rest for nearly a day, at the end of which he could see Asgard in the distance. Time was short. The wall would be completed within days, at most, and he still had no idea what he would do.

Loki dismounted and let his horse rest for a while. The beast did not seem to need it, but it gave him a chance to wander about and consider his choices—or fret about his lack of them—before he returned. The Norns had not given him any solution to stopping the mason. Maybe his fate was to complete the rebuilding and claim Freyja, and thus to launch the Aesir on another path than the one they might be traveling. If so, his own life-line carved into Yggdrasil may very well be short indeed. It was quite possible that he could be slain in response to Freyja’s bondage to the mason. All it would require was for Odin to allow it, or fail to disallow it. He could easily imagine Frey intent on settling the offense against him, and he doubted that he could best him in combat.

A rumbling in the distance stirred him from his thoughts. The familiar dust cloud in the wake of the mason’s progress was headed out of Asgard and towards a quarry. Loki was closer, and he thought he could arrive in time to observe the mason at work. It was possible that he could find a weakness out here, away from the city, before it was too late. He mounted his horse and rode off at speed.

The quarry, a deep bowl on the edge of a thick, crescent-shaped copse of ancient trees, was littered with scraps of once irregular boulders that had been hewn down to enormous blocks by the mason’s chisel. Some large boulders remained, and the mason would no doubt use these for his reconstruction of the wall.

Loki led his horse to the copse and wandered in, finding a spot where he could observe the quarry without being observed in turn. He dismounted and let his horse graze while he crept closer.

He could see the trail of dust in the wake of the mason’s horse before he could see the horse itself. Its speed was incredible, and it came fully into view shortly after he spotted it. It was a powerfully built draft, mottled gray with a long, silver mane, and its body was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. As it drew closer, Loki could see the mason riding on the net that trailed behind the horse.

He looked little different than before. A large man with powerful arms and broad shoulders, he was ideally suited for heavy work such as this. As before, Loki sensed the sorcery surrounding him, a shifting that was out of place. It was as if each movement he made was an instant off, like he was a shadow of himself.

As Loki watched, the mason and walked down into the quarry. He approached a boulder twice his height and began hitting it with swift and precise strokes with his hammer, his hands moving faster than Loki could follow. In mere minutes he had finished crafting a near-perfect square building block. He moved on to another boulder and repeated the process, each blow sending chipped stone flying and dust wafting into the air.

After seeing him make quick work of boulder after boulder, Loki barely questioned how the mason would haul the blocks up the side of the quarry. He was certain that he would simply pick them up—ton upon ton of stone block—and cart them up the side, plopping them down onto the net for his horse to pull.

Loki abandoned any idea that he may have entertained of attacking the mason after seeing him at work. Aside from breaking the bargain, what truly stayed his hand was his perfect certainty that he would never survive to land a second blow should he be foolish enough to attack him.

As he continued to observe, he noticed the mason’s outline shifting subtly. He seemed at one point no taller than Loki, and then at another to rival Thor’s height. His arms, as they struck stone with hammer, seemed to extend longer, and seemed to also be numerous, as if he could spy multiples while they quickly hammered away. It must have been a trick of his motion, the speed of his hammer striking making it appear as if he had more than two arms, but it was disconcerting.

Loki strangely felt a kinship as he watched. Secrets were being revealed as he observed the mason, and he felt different, as if he was beginning to tap into something that existed within himself. He was not sure he could put a name to it, but there was a sense that he knew more, that he was seeing secret things that others could not perceive.

The answer is within you,
the Norns had told him. Something about his own nature was being revealed as he watched the mason, something fluid. He felt his skin as a restrictive container, something that attempted to prevent him from . . . what? He was not sure. He only knew that some secret contained within him was on the verge of release. The mason was not what he appeared to be, and Loki suddenly felt that it was true for him as well.
You are one and the same,
they had said.

The mason would be done with the blocks soon enough. After loading them, he would head back to Asgard and finish the rebuilding. He would need another trip back to the quarry, but all would be lost if Loki did not act soon. Glancing once more at the mason’s horse, he silently cursed the condition in the bargain that allowed him the use of this beast. If only that condition had not been granted, the mason would surely have failed to get this far.

As he stared at the horse, he began to see as it saw. He could feel how it gauged its footing subtly, each step being instantly measured even while it set hooves down. He could see the way the animal saw its surroundings, the hidden dangers in a stand of trees, the open plains filled with tall shoots that sustained life. He could feel its power and strength, the feel of the wind whipping its mane as it galloped.

Something stirred within him, and he slowly began to grasp the Norns’ message. He looked over at the mason and was shocked to see his true form. Jaw agape, Loki now understood how he could complete so much of the wall in such a short time. Yet even while he felt disgust and revulsion at the mason's true nature, he also finally understood why he had noticed the sorcery when no others had.

He would not have believed it if he had simply been told by the Norns, and they must have known that. Instead, all they could do was hint at his own true nature, a nature that could be revealed by a monster who masqueraded as a simple stone builder. The realization stunned him, even as he recognized it as the truth. His ancestry was elsewhere, and he could not deny it now that he felt it asserting itself within him.
You are one and the same.

He was staggered with the consequences of what this meant. His entire life—millennia of time spent on Asgard—was false. He was no more one of the Aesir than the mason was, and the thought sickened him, even while he accepted it as the truth.

He forced his revulsion down, at once concocting a way that he might use his newfound knowledge. He may not truly be Aesir, but that was something that could still be hidden. They would not need to know—they would likely kill him if they did. The mere fact of his true nature would not change who he was and who he served. It would be a lie to continue as he had, but he did not care. A lie that would never be revealed did not truly exist. The truth was that he served the High One above all, even now, and the bare fact of his true ancestry was meaningless.

As he looked back at the horse the answer came to him. The animal had allowed the mason to get further in the rebuilding than he would have been able to do alone. He would not be able to complete the wall without the beast.

The stone builder will not complete the wall,
he recalled.

His idea would not have been possible without the Norns' hints and the revelation of his true self. It would not be something he relished, but it would cease the rebuilding and save Freyja, and he would not have to contend with the ghoulish Einherjar or angry Asgardians with more might than wit. He would sacrifice once more for the bond he held with the Allfather.

As he felt his form begin to change, he wondered if it was not more honorable for him to do this thing knowing who he really was. It gave him further satisfaction to know that no other of the Aesir would sacrifice himself in this way. They would rattle their swords and shout their fury to the heavens, but none would ever do what he planned. Nor would they be grateful for his sacrifice if they knew of it. All they need know is that he prevented the wall from being rebuilt. They may be suspicious, but they could not fail to honor him for his service.

The mason's horse noticed him for the first time, and Loki walked deeper into the copse. His form continued to change as he was enveloped by the trees. It would be complete soon, and the horse would follow.

The mason finished the final strokes on the last boulder and tucked his tools into his belt. He reached his arms as far around the block as he could, and hefted the huge stone with no more effort than a child lifting a toy block.

He walked up the side of the quarry and dropped the stone onto the net before he noticed. His horse was gone, the loose harness lying on the ground where the beast had been only minutes before.

Disbelief quickly changed to anger. He clenched his fists at his sides. He felt himself shifting, allowing the chaos to reshape him, but he quickly contained it. He forced his temper down and thought about what could have happened.

He examined the harness. It had been cut, but roughly, not with a blade. The edges were ragged and looked as if they had been chewed through. He brought them up to his face. The cuts were uneven, and the leather had been pulled thin around them. He threw the harness down, his anger rising once more. The beast had chewed the harness and then pulled till it snapped. It had betrayed him. But for what?

He attempted to follow its tracks, but the trail was too dry and hard. There were scant hoof prints, but he was no tracker. He thought they might lead to the woods. He looked towards them and realized that if his horse had gone that way, there was little chance that he would be able to find it. And time was being wasted.

Biting back his rage at this unplanned for event, he realized that he could not waste time searching for a horse that he was unlikely to find. If the beast wanted to return, it would. If not, it could very well be miles away by now. The mason angrily returned to loading stones onto the net.

As before, it did not take him long before the net was filled. He grabbed the harnesses left behind and held them over his shoulder. Digging his heels in, he began to pull the net loaded with dozens of square blocks toward the last section of uncompleted wall.

The weight was not troublesome, but he could not manage the speed of his horse. At best he could only make the speed of a normal horse, which was nowhere near the pace of his own beast. He forced his body to move faster, but even at a breakneck pace he knew he would not finish the rebuilding before the deadline.

For the next three days the mason ignored the impossibility of the task. He did not pause to draw breath, while he carved boulders, pulled his burden, and stacked them onto the mostly completed wall. His speed was astonishing and his endurance was impossible, but they were not enough to finish the rebuilding. He watched the sun set on the final day as he pulled the last load through the gates of Asgard, but it was for naught. The bargain had been lost.

He continued to pull the last load of blocks up to the wall. He was not certain if it was an act of defiance, or if he simply refused to leave this final load undelivered. He pulled them to the last unbuilt section of wall and released the harness. He looked back at the dozens of blocks that lay unused. He would have finished the wall with these and one or two more loads. It was another day's work, at most, but it did not matter. The sun had set, and the time to complete the task had expired.

The streets were lined with watchers as he made his way to Gladsheim, insolent smirks covering each face. All knew the bargain, and all knew that he had failed to fulfill it. He could hear their laughs and boasts, their taunts, as he passed. He let loose the rage that he had contained since finding his horse gone, and it continued to rise with every step he took. The knowledge that he would have finished if his beast had not abandoned him burned his insides.