Loki (6 page)

But even at his unbelievable pace, he would not have come this far without the assistance of his horse. Each time they returned from the quarry, the animal—no bigger than any draft horse—hauled scores of enormous blocks in a wide net that trailed behind him for hundreds of feet. The load was so heavy that its rumbling could be heard for leagues, and it left a channel in the wake of its passing.

“
The first day of summer draws near,” Tyr said.

“
And we draw closer to losing Freyja,” Balder replied, clenching his fists. He turned to face Tyr. “No mortal could accomplish what this one has. There is sorcery here.” He did not mention that his nightmares had increased in intensity since the mason's arrival.

“
Undoubtedly. His strength rivals Thor's.”

“
Then we should renounce the bargain. It was struck in bad faith. That ought to justify breaking it.”

Tyr shook his head. “You know that cannot be done. We cannot simply change the terms of an agreement because we do not like the result. You know well enough what it means to be Aesir,” Tyr added, “And we cannot forget that even if we lose Freyja, we gain something from this bargain.”

Balder was not mollified. “I do not care about the wall. How can a thing made of stacked bricks compare to one of the gods? What we lose is far greater than what we gain.”

“
You say that now, but what if the giants marched on us? I do not take the unhappy loss of Freyja lightly, but that wall may be the thing that prevents the destruction of Asgard. It may be callous to say so, but Freyja's sacrifice here may prevent the death of all.”

Balder looked at him sourly. “Is that the cost of our security? Trade one of us so the rest can feel safe? That is a cowardly bargain.”

Tyr was not surprised to hear Balder speak like this. His temper often got the better of him. Still, he would not allow Balder to speak of the High One in such a way without redress. “You do a disservice to your father. You know little of his sacrifices or his burdens. He bears the fate of the Nine Worlds on his shoulders, while you think only of one solitary goddess. While we value and honor her, would we sacrifice the whole of creation for her?”

Balder looked away, frustrated. “You seek to make it more complicated than it is. Do you really think the fate of all rests on this one ill-conceived bargain?”

“
How can we know? It is not our lot to question the judgment of the High One. He knows things we can only guess at.”

Balder was not satisfied. “Bah, that is an explanation meant to keep us quiet. If my father truly knows all, then why does he not share his knowledge with us? Does he think us children who cannot bear to hear sour news?”

Tyr shifted on his horse, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “We do not yet know what the outcome of this bargain will be. It is possible that the wall will not be finished, and that Freyja will not be lost.”

“
He will finish. Look at him. He is a whirlwind. How can he work so furiously without rest? There is sorcery here.”

Tyr nodded slowly. “You may be right. But the bargain was made; that is all that matters.”

“
And what of the sorcery? Does it not matter that this creature deceived us?”

“
Not if it cannot be proven.”

Tyr sighed and glanced over to the wall. He did not like the bargain, either, but it was made and none could change that. He doubted that the mason would be satisfied with some other reward. What could compare to Freyja?

Balder scowled. “Loki is to blame for this. He convinced my father to enter this bargain. You saw him, Tyr. Odin was prepared to reject the deal before Loki whispered honeyed words into his ear. Nothing good ever comes from his schemes. My father ought to know that by now.”

“
You know that is not true. There have been times when the Sly One's schemes have helped Asgard.”

Balder looked disgusted. “He spoils all he touches.”

“
Was it not Loki who found Mjolnir when it had been stolen by the giant, Thrym? If not for him, Thor would not have regained the hammer.”

“
Mjolnir would have been discovered soon enough even without Loki's help. That giant was a fool. He could not even tell that his bride was a thundering, red-bearded brute.”

Tyr did not argue the point. He knew that Balder's anger at the bargain prevented him from seeing clearly.

Balder said, “I will not just sit here and allow Freyja to be lost.”

“
There is nothing to do but sit and wait, and hope that the mason does not complete the rebuilding. You know that we cannot interfere with him.” Tyr wondered if Balder planned to attack the mason or stop him somehow. Such an act would only bring dishonor to the Aesir, and Balder could find himself facing the blood eagle, his lungs sprouting from his back like wings. Tyr doubted, however, that Balder could survive an attack on the mason, and he wondered what might happen as a result.

“
I can read your thoughts, Tyr. I will not do anything foolish. I will merely seek out the counsel of he who is never without a plan. Maybe his conniving will be able to undo what he has done.”

“
Do not do anything rash, Balder. I would not want to see you punished for interfering with your father's plans. His wrath can be terrible.”

“
I only wish to find a solution to this problem. I am sure the Sly One will be able to discover a way to save Freyja.”

Balder spurred his horse and rode back towards Asgard.

Tyr watched him go, his brows creased with worry. Balder would never approach Loki. He could not even stand to be in the same room with him. Would he swallow his distaste and appeal to Loki for this one thing? Would he threaten him? And even if he did, could Loki's counsel be trusted? It was true that his schemes sometimes saved the day, but it was just as true that his mischief rankled many of the Aesir.

He watched the mason continue to rebuild till he ran out of blocks. He and his horse headed back to the quarry, traveling faster than could be believed. They would return soon enough with more stone to add to the wall. He did not think its completion could be halted. He hoped that Balder would find a way, despite his own misgivings.

* * *

There was little use in denying that the mason would probably complete the rebuilding of the wall, but it galled Loki nonetheless. He cursed himself for ignoring the sheen of sorcery he had seen on the mason at the council at Gladsheim. It was certainly more palatable to blame sorcery than to accept that he may have been fooled.

But why had Odin allowed the bargain to be struck if he knew that the mason would complete the rebuilding? The High One's threat was foremost on his mind, and he considered the punishment he might receive if the wall was completed. Death? Exile? But why would Odin allow him to endanger himself if he knew the outcome? Perhaps that meant that something would prevent the mason from completing the task.

He could think of little that could be done, however. Anything that blatantly interfered with the mason would be viewed as breaking the bargain. He was stuck with merely hoping that the mason would not finish, as unlikely as that might be.

He had observed the mason at work, convinced that the sorcery that hid his true nature was at fault. He did not work as one, but as many. His speed, his strength—they were not those of mortals, or even gods. None of the Aesir could have accomplished what the mason had so far, and that was disturbing. He could not conceive of a being who wielded such abilities. Even the giants, though they were strong beyond belief, did not have the powers of this mortal.

He had wandered out onto the paths of Asgard to observe the mason's handiwork. He was leery of getting too close, unsure of the creature's true nature. He saw him working from afar, hauling with ease stone blocks that would have given Thor difficulty. No one could have predicted that the mason would be able to do these things. This would surely be taken into account if the wall was finished.

For now, he would observe him and consider ways to stop the construction. If he continued at his current speed there were still several weeks left before the wall was finished. That was time enough, Loki thought, to devise a way to stop him.

As he moved around a corner, coming closer to where the mason toiled, there was a sharp blow to the back of his head. He stumbled to the ground, still conscious, but only barely. He was grabbed and roughly dragged before being dumped to the ground.

He lay with his face in the dirt, struggling to overcome waves of nausea. He got to his hands and knees and was rewarded with a kick to the stomach. He vomited, but managed to keep his position. His head and vision clearing, he anticipated another blow but it did not fall. He looked up to see his attacker.

There was a semi-circle of men surrounding him, a score or so of them, and a high wall to his back. The men wore battle-scarred armor and held pitted weapons that still looked solid enough to cleave flesh. The men themselves were just as damaged. Some were missing hands or even arms, one stood on one leg, propping himself up with a rough wooden crutch. Several lacked eyes or ears, or both. All had numerous visible scars, and more that were not visible. Their armor had plates missing, gouges and cuts where countless blades had stabbed, thrust, and slashed.

All in Asgard knew these men. These were Odin's army of dead warriors, the Einherjar. They fought on the fields of Asgard each day, feasted and drank themselves to a stupor each night, only to rise—both the dead and the living—to repeat the cycle the next day.

But though they rose to fight again, they did not emerge unscathed. Those that lost limbs did not have them magically regrown. Those with eyes stabbed out did not find their vision returning. In fact, some of the most badly injured Einherjar were barely human, but they dragged themselves onto the field of battle to fight in whatever way they could. Those that survived intact time and time again were fearsome fighters, but their numbers were few. All of these warriors would be needed at Ragnarok, or so the legend went.

Loki was less concerned with a legendary future than he was with the immediate threat they posed. Thor or Tyr might relish this situation—a score of fighters against one lone adversary—but he did not fool himself that he was their equal. While he was skilled with a blade, he was no match for all at once, at least not after being waylaid.

He rose slowly, wary of another kick. As he glanced over their gruesome faces he saw nothing that made him think that these warriors had once been living men. Their stares were dull and lifeless, their motions mechanical. There was no spark of life within any of them, and Loki could feel the dull bloodlust they exuded, like a foul stench. These were not men; they were ghouls.

“
You strike a prince of Asgard,” he said. There was no change in their expressionless faces. “The Allfather will not like this. You risk his wrath.”

A large, bald one stepped forward. He was missing an eye, and there were scars above and below where the eye had been, as if a large blade had stabbed him there. His ear and part of his head were missing on the right side as well. The rest of him, though severely scarred, was intact, and he gripped an axe in one hand.

“
He cannot finish the wall,” the warrior said. His speech was halting and rough, as if he had not spoken in years. Loki considered that it was possibly true. This warrior could have been in Asgard for many mortal lifetimes, and there would be scant need for him to say anything. The other ghouls simply stared, and looked as if they were eager to hack and slash at any target.

The Einherjar had never attacked any of the Aesir before, nor did they look as though they had concocted this—or any idea—on their own. Someone had told them to do this. He suspected it was Frey, likely angry that his twin sister was the payment for the wall.

“
I agree,” he said. He would befuddle these warriors while he regained his bearing, discover who had sent them, and then kill them all. “We must stop the mason from finishing the wall. But we cannot do it here, fighting amongst ourselves. I must find your master so that we can craft a plan. Where is he now?”

The bald warrior did not respond, but had an air of confusion, as if he was not sure what he should say. “He told us . . .” He paused, searching for a response. “He cannot finish the wall. We will kill you if he finishes the wall.”

Loki felt increased threat. He was not entirely sure they would not kill him now, before he could figure out who sent them. “The mason is the threat. We must help each other. Nothing can be done while we stand here trading words. Your master, is he in his hall? I must find him quickly. There is little time to waste. Where is he?”

The bald warrior looked at the other Einherjar. He signaled to some nearer to Loki and they grabbed his arms, one on either side. He stepped forward, bringing his face close. His breath was hot and fetid.

Loki opened his mouth to further persuade the warrior, but was hit in the stomach with the haft of the axe. He doubled over, but was kept on his feet by the two holding him up.

“
You will stop the wall or we will kill you.”

He could see that words were not going to work. “Yes,” he sputtered. “I will go to stop him now.”

He felt the two holding him relax the slightest bit, and then sent his foot into the groin of the bald one in front of him, who doubled over at his feet. He took advantage of the surprise and wrenched one arm free. His hand found his sword hilt and he pulled it loose quickly. Before anyone else could act he continued the motion and swept it in a wide arc, beheading the one who had been holding him.