Thunder Crashes

A/N: the * before sentences indicates telepathic speech

The circus manager was livid when Marissa told him what had almost happened. Not
that I blamed him any. If some piece of trash had nearly raped Belle I'd have roasted his balls over
a slow fire and made him watch. Matthew was a little less graphic—he said he wanted to
strip Tims naked and stake him to a hill of red army ants, the way the Comanche did to their
enemies, but in lieu of that he'd turn the coward over to the local law for attempted assault
of a woman and embezzlement of funds. And he'd make certain that Sheriff Woodrow knew
that certain officers in his employ were not above taking bribes, unless that was another of
Tims' lies.

Either way, that was the last anyone ever heard from Mr. Aristotle Tims.

Yet, in a way, I had him to thank for revealing to me the true depth of my feelings for
Marissa. There's nothing like having the woman you think you love in peril to bring home
the fact that you really do love her that much. Not only that, but I also knew that she returned
my affections more than just a little, if that kiss was any example.

Even so, I still regarded my affection for Matthew's daughter as cursed. Not only was
I an immortal, doomed to eternal life, but I was living a lie as well. Even in my current guise,
I was many years her senior, and what manner of woman wanted to tie herself to a man so
much older then she? Only one who was very desperate. Or very much in love, as Esmerelda
pointed out to me one evening after supper, while Marissa was busy helping Rowena with the
dishes.

My mouth had dropped open at her casually spoken words. Christ on the cross, did
everyone in Midgard know of my feelings for the girl? I felt myself blush red as a fire. I was
no green boy, to wear his heart on his sleeve for all to see. I had been careful to hide my
interest in Marissa as anything save a friend, or so I'd thought.

"Esmerelda!" I sputtered, just as tongue-tied as any teenage boy, may all the Norns
have mercy! "Whyever would you suggest such a thing? Marissa is the daughter of my
employer, not to mention ten years my junior."

But the Rom woman was far too experienced to be put off by any lame excuses.
"That may be so, Loki, but the heart knows neither age nor propriety. Among the Rom, we
say love is no respecter of caste or appearance, it simply is. Now, there's no sense in denying
it, so best you simply accept it, for it won't go away, magician. This is one thing you can't
make disappear with a wave of your wand or a swirl of your cape."

"Don't you think I know that?" I growled miserably. "I've been fighting this damn
attraction for weeks now and all it's gotten me is an aching head and a temper to rival that
of a baited grizzly."

She laid a cool hand on my arm, her eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and a
woman's wicked knowledge of sensuality. "Then perhaps you should stop doing so, Mr.
Sigurdson. Love hurts worse when thwarted, you know."

Actually I didn't, having never been in the state before. "What are you saying,
Esmerelda? That I should just announce my intentions to court her before everyone and hope
she returns my affections? Or that Matthew doesn't take offense and come after me with a
shotgun?"

"You don't know Matthew very well if you think he'd ever threaten the only man his
daughter has ever shown interest in," my friend said softly, chuckling. "He loves Marissa too
well to ever make her unhappy. And he would have no room to disapprove of you being a
performer, since that would be like the pot calling the kettle black. In fact, I think he would
be glad if the two of you did marry, then he could turn the business over to you both when he
retired and keep the circus in the family. He likes and respects you, Loki, he knows you'd
never take advantage of his daughter."

I laughed quietly. "I wouldn't, in every way save one." Then I shook my head angrily.
"But all this speculation is useless. I won't ask Marissa to marry me and there's an end to
it. She can do ten times better than me."

"She doesn't think so."

"How do you know that? She tell you?"

Again Esmerelda nodded. "Not with words, no, but I know her heart all the same.
And it beats for you and only you."

"Sure it does. Typical Rom nonsense."

She frowned at me, crossing her arms over her chest, giving me a look from under her
dark eyelashes like that of a mother reproving a totally exasperating child. "Do not mock
what you can't understand. I practically raised the girl after her mother died and I know her
as well as I do my own daughter. I have never seen Rissa look at a man the way she does you,
for never has a man been willing to respect her for all that she is. Most men see only the
glittering performer, the woman who represents all their own wives do not, and they hunger
to possess her like a shiny gold coin. But once they had her, they would expect her to
conform to the rules of society, and be nothing more than a bedmate and a broodmare,
subservient only to him. Marissa knows this, it is why she has never allowed a man close to
her. Until now. For in you she sees one who will not cage her spirit, who is not afraid of a
woman who can think, who enjoys her independence and will love her as an equal. If she
married you, Loki, she need never fear becoming a man's possession. And she loves you the
same way you love her."

"You don't understand. I CAN'T MARRY HER!" I cried, my voice rising despite my
best efforts to control it.

"Why not? You are free to seek a new wife, are you not?" Esmerelda inquired. Then
her eyes narrowed. "Or have you played us false and still have a wife back in Norway?"

"No. I have no woman anywhere who binds me. Nor did I ever. I have never known
a love like this before," I admitted softly, gazing down at my hands.

"Ah. I see now. That is why you are running away from your own shadow. Because
you are afraid to love her."

"Yes."

"You need not be. A love such as hers will free you, Loki. There is nothing so sweet
as the love of a woman like my Marissa. She has the kindest of hearts, the most generous and
accepting of natures."

"I know that. But even that won't be enough. Please, Esmerelda, no more. There is
too much about me that you don't know, can never know. Trust me when I say that no matter
how much Marissa thinks she loves me, such a love could never stand the truth that I carry.
So best never put it to the test, my lady."

"Ah, my friend. Whatever secret shame you carry cannot be as great as all that." She
tilted her head to one side, in the manner of a curious child. "Have you done murder then?
Or committed adultery perhaps? You'd not be the first man to have done so and then repented
of it."

"Would that my secret was as commonplace as that," I snorted. "But no, I'm not
running from a wronged wife or vengeful kinsmen. But my heart is not free to marry Marissa
nor any other woman. I made a vow, long ago, to never marry a woman I couldn't reveal all
of myself to."

"Oh. And are you so sure that Marissa isn't the woman you seek?"

I sighed. "Yes. The understanding I seek is not to be found here." Nor anywhere on
Midgard, more's the pity. Loki, Loki, you everlastingly foolish dolt! You know better than
to reveal your heart to a mortal. Love has never fared well in a battle with immortality.

"So you say. But I say differently. I say you should tell Marissa this great secret of
yours, Loki Sigurdson, and let her be the judge as to what she will or will not accept. That
would be the fair thing to do. Not to mention honorable."

This time I did laugh, softly and mockingly. But not at Esmerelda. My scorn was for
myself. "Life's never fair, Esmerelda Flynn. I learned that a long time ago. And honor's a
thing for knights in shining armor, not stage magicians. And love is for those young and
foolish enough to believe in it. I am none of those things."

"Are you not? You value yourself too little, magician. I think you are afraid to love
because you think yourself unworthy. But, Loki, so are we all. Not one of us is without
flaws, a perfect being. Not one of us is without sin or shame. But when you love another,
all of that vanishes, at least for a while. For those that love one another truly accept their
partner's flaws and in so doing free the beloved from hurt. Love is the ultimate expression
of forgiveness. Thus does God teach us, in His Holy Writ. Thus I believe. And so does
Marissa."

"Love and forgiveness are possible for all?" I could not keep the bitterness from my
tone.

"Of course. Our Savior died so that the sins of us all were to be forgiven. Do you not
believe in that, Loki?"

"Oh, I believe in it," I answered, shivering. How could I not? No one knew better
than I of the sacrifice made by Jesus of Nazareth. "He sacrificed all for peace. Peace among
mankind." He never said a damn thing about peace among immortals. "It's too bad that
dream of peace will never be heeded by most people. Nearly two thousand years have passed
and still people are killing each other."

"Mankind is stubborn. Much like yourself."

I shrugged. "Guess so. That being so, you might as well save your breath, Esmerelda.
And tell Marissa not to waste hers either. Some secrets aren't meant to be shared. Good
night." I turned away, seeking to put some distance between us. Some of her words had
struck much too deep for comfort and I needed time to repair the breach in my defenses.

"You can't run forever, Loki." I heard Esmerelda whisper softly behind me. "Love
will find you always."

I bit my lip hard, but didn't reply, much as I longed to shout back that love would
never find me a world away, in Asgard. I cursed furiously. Damn my soft heart! And damn
Leif for stealing Gungnir and Thor too for sending me on this stupid quest. While I was at
it, I also damned Belle for her insistence on coming with me to confront her faithless
boyfriend and Marissa as well for falling in love with an immortal who could never return
her love.

Except I knew that I lied. For I DID love her. Loved her too damn much. I could
admit it to myself, if never to another.

Heaven help me, but I was such a fool! After eight centuries you'd think I would have
learned how to guard my heart better. But I never thought a pair of soft brown eyes and a
gentle smile would be able to scale all the defenses I'd built, nor that a laugh would capture
my heart so utterly.

And they said men were the more dangerous of the human race.

Wishful thinking. For there was nothing so dangerous as a woman's smile, nor so
powerful as a woman's longing. Nothing. With such weapons had Delilah conquered
Samson. With such weapons Brunhilda had seduced Sigurd, and Guinevere commanded
Arthur and Lancelot. Warriors all, undefeated in battle, yet when faced with a woman's secret
weapon, they'd fallen. A man's strength availed him little against a woman's kisses and no
sword or shield in the world was proof against a woman's love. Men have always known
this. It is why they spent the next thousand years lying to themselves, boasting that women
were the weaker and in need of a man's protection. Because every man knows the best
defense against something is a good offense. Except there is no protection against a woman's
love. Nor had there ever been.

Immortal and mortal, every man born knows this for truth.

Which was why I was doomed.

The sensible thing to do would have been to avoid all temptation and have nothing
more to do with Marissa Turner from then on. But the Norns forbid I should embrace
anything so practical as common sense when it comes to women. I just didn't have it in me
to be deliberately rude to a woman whose only crime—if you could call it that—had been to
make me fall in love with her. Something which I was almost sure she didn't know. I
thought we might go back to being friends, but that kiss outside her home had sealed both our
fates. And, if I'm going to be perfectly honest—a rarity for me, I know—I didn't want to give
up that promise of love. I knew I was courting disaster even entertaining such thoughts, yet
I could not seem to help myself.

I knew what the other immortals of my acquaintance would say to me had I gone to
them for advice. They'd tell me to bed her and be done with it. That would quench my
desire for her quick enough. But I wanted more from her than a casual relationship. I was
no longer the callow immortal that had spurned Sigyn's advances of marriage. Raising Belle
had caused me to release the chokehold I'd kept over my heart, had made me realize that love
did not always mean vulnerability.

Yet loving a daughter was not the same as loving a wife. My love for Belle was fierce
and protective and on my own terms. But if I allowed myself to love Marissa I would have
to give up a part of myself, for to do less would not be right. I would have to tell her the truth
of who and what I was. I didn't think I could do that, so best to keep silent. In a few days,
it'd be a moot point anyhow.

I'd be gone along with Gungnir and Belle and soon enough they'd all forget us.

Thus when Marissa asked me to go on a picnic with her, I agreed, figuring if I
couldn't have the rest of my life with her, I'd at least have some wonderful memories to
comfort me in my lonely Asgardian exile. Esmerelda and Rowena packed us a huge lunch
and waved us off with a smile. I strapped the bulging picnic hamper to the back of my saddle
and mounted Heror, ignoring his complaints that he wasn't any damned draft horse. "Quit
moaning, you big baby," I ordered in Norse. "It barely weighs ten pounds. It's not like I'm
asking you to tote a wagon full of rocks."

"Good thing, else you'd be in the dirt by now, magician," my stallion snorted, laying
back his ears and stomping his left hoof.

I swung into the saddle, smacking him on the shoulder. "You're acting like a spoiled
brat, Heror. Now knock it the hell off."

"I'd like to knock you off," he grumbled, and I could feel him bunching his
hindquarters beneath me.

"Buck me off and I swear that I'll leave you stranded here," I hissed in one upturned
ear.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me."

Wisely, Heror settled down. I tolerated a lot from my beloved mouthy horse, but
being bucked off on purpose wasn't one of them. Especially not in front of Marissa, who was
fastening a large jug of water on the back of Rocket's saddle. She mounted in one graceful
leap and looked over at me inquiringly. "All set then?"

I nodded, settling myself more firmly into my saddle. "Lead on, Lady MacDuff."

"Will do, my lord," she grinned at the reference to Hamlet, then kicked her horse into
a gentle trot.

We headed out west of the main encampment, thankful that the sky was a brilliant
blue and clear, save for a few clouds that scudded like tumbleweeds across the pristine azure
surface. It was early afternoon and still cool, prime weather for having a picnic.

We rode along in silence for several minutes, relishing in the simple fact of one
another's presence and the fact that the prairie around us was so blessedly quiet. Back among
the wagons, it was sometimes hard to hear yourself think, what with all the chatter and such.
Living in such close quarters had taken a bit of getting used to, I reflected wryly, especially
considering that I'd been a confirmed solitary bachelor for centuries.

I relaxed in the saddle, whistling an old folk song I'd learned from Black Moccasin.
A jackrabbit bounded away at the sound of the horses' hooves, vanishing into the dried sienna
grass as if by magic. Several partridges and grouse took wing as well and I almost wished
I had a gun or a bow so I could shoot one. Roasted partridge was a favorite dish of mine.

Marissa too eyed the birds longingly, then said, "Too bad I didn't think to bring along
a rifle, we could have had some nice roasted game hens. Oh well. It's too fine a day to kill
something, especially since Esmerelda went through all that trouble to feed us."

"My thoughts exactly," I remarked. "How much further to this picnic spot you
mentioned?"

"Not too much longer. See that flat topped rock over yonder?" she pointed to a tall
rock that appeared as if someone had sliced off the top of it with a knife. It was gray in color,
though striated with several bands of color.

I nodded. "Looks like somebody painted it."

"Uh-huh. That's what I call it. Painted Rock. Just beyond it is a field with wild
prairie roses and violets and other flowers. Pa and I used to go there all the time with my
mother when I was small. Later, Maura, Nikko, and I used to come here when we were sick
of being stuck in the wagons doing chores."

We trotted towards the painted rock, the horses hooves sounding rhythmically over
the fragrant scent of hot grass. It was high summer now and the knee high grass was the color
of golden corn and honey, dotted with small clumps of colorful violet and pink flowers. The
wind ruffled my hair, as I'd removed my hat, allowing the breeze to cool the back of my neck.
I wore casual denims and a blue cambric shirt, as well as a white neckerchief and my good
leather boots.

Marissa was dressed in similar clothes, only her shirt was of a soft teal green color
with sleeves that belled and her neckerchief was a pale lavender color. Unlike many women,
she did not disdain the more practical denims and preferred them to skirts when she rode,
though I'd also seen her don a pair of deerskin leggings on occasion too. Like most expert
horsewomen she used her legs as her main mode of communication with her mount, and
skirts tended to get in the way of her subtle signals, which was why she didn't wear them to
ride.

"More women have suffered accidents riding because of fashion than I can count,"
she'd told me one day after a practice. "If they'd paid more attention to their seat and their
mount than the way their skirt falls or looking like pin-up for a magazine, there'd be a lot
better riders. That side-saddle is the ruination of half the women in this country."

I, of course, agreed with her, having never understood the ridiculous convention. I
was glad she had not succumbed to the lure of being fashionable. Thank the Norns for a
woman with sense. Then again, she'd grown up out here, and a woman who was frivolous
and decorative didn't last long in this untamed country.

Nor in Asgard either, my rebellious heart whispered. I drowned it out with another
rendition of a trail song by Black Moccasin.

Soon enough we'd reached the broad swath of wild flowers growing in riotous
profusion amid the sweet smelling golden prairie grass. I unpacked the red and white
checked blanket Esmerelda had given us along with the bulging picnic hamper. Inside the
basket were a set of silverware, napkins, plates and two tin cups. Marissa quickly filled these
with water from the water jug, and both of us drank greedily, rinsing the trail dust from our
mouths.

Then we set about picketing our mounts, leading them to the small water hole to
drink, then putting them on a long rein to graze comfortably. Heror swished his black tail in
delight, smacking me in the face as I fastened his lead.

I scowled at him and muttered in Norse, "Still sulking, are you, you incorrigible
animal?"

"Oh, did I hit you?" Heror nickered in surprise. "Sorry, magician. I forgot you were
there."

"Sure you did," I snorted.

"I did, honest. There was a fly biting me. And you don't know how good it feels with
that saddle off your back. It was making me itch something dreadful."

I ran my hands over his back and off came handfuls of thick black hair. "You're
shedding your winter coat," I murmured. "It's summer here, so you don't need it. That's
why you're itching."

"I knew that," my stallion whinnied, then lay down in the grass and rolled, scratching
the itchy places. I grinned and Marissa laughed, for when Heror rolled, he resembled nothing
so much as an overlarge Labrador retriever.

I moved away from my horse then, coming to sit on a corner and help Marissa unpack
the food Esmerelda had packed. There were thick sandwiches of ham and cheese, a jar of
pickles, a plate of fried chicken, a salad of lentils and chickpeas in a delicious oil and vinegar
dressing, and two huge pieces of cherry pie and a small sack of lemon cookies.

"What did she cook for an army?" I asked, my eyebrows rising at all of the food.

"Esmerelda always does," Rissa smiled, handing me a plate filled with food. "You
ought to know that by now, Loki, as many times as you've eaten at her vardo."

"Guess so. Good thing riding always makes me hungry," I commented, biting into a
drumstick. The batter on it was crispy and delightfully spicy and I devoured it. Nobody
makes fried chicken like Esmerelda.

For several minutes we were too busy filling our bellies to make small talk. But at
last, I was content to savor the rich crust and sweet tanginess of my cherry pie one bite at a
time, half reclining against my saddle.

"You know, Esmerelda doesn't make cherry pie for just anyone," Marissa said,
scraping the last of her slice from the tin plate. "She says that cherries are good for lovers."

"Oh? Like oysters?" I chuckled.

"Something like that. Though I've never understood why anyone would ever consider
those things an aphrodisiac." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "They look like blobs of spit
and they taste like it too. I like cherry pie much better." She eyed the remainder of my slice
wistfully.

"So do I," I answered and gallantly fed her the remainder of my piece. "Well, you
know what they say about Rom women."

"No, what do they say?"

"That they love to meddle in affairs of the heart. Your Esmerelda is a born
matchmaker."

She grinned then, her smile as innocent as a little child's. "That she is. Are you
prepared to accept her choice, magician?"

"Are you?" I whispered, then I put down the fork and reached for her. In all of ten
seconds she was in my lap and we were kissing, searing kisses born of desire, laced with the
sweetness of cherry pie.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, my reason was screaming to stop this foolishness,
but I ignored it, for I was consumed by a desire far older and consuming than mere reason.
There was an indefinable connection between Marissa and I, something I had never felt
before, something I had never allowed myself to feel before, I should say. Perhaps it was
knowing that I would soon be leaving her, or the mere fact that she was willing and eager and
so was I. Whatever the reason, we had half our clothes off and I was gently showing her what
a man could do with his hands and mouth to pleasure a woman, all of my fine-honed control
scattered to the four winds.

She was kissing me back with equal passion, her lips at my ear, whispering, "Loki,
God how I love you."

"I know. I have always known. You were meant for me and I for you," I said
raggedly, reaching behind her to undo her light corset.

There was little doubt in my mind that I would have seduced her utterly that
afternoon, so completely was I possessed by love's spell. I had denied myself the
companionship of a woman for too long, not just physically, but mentally as well. Both my
body and my heart were starving for it and so was Marissa, innocent though she was.

But our lovemaking was interrupted by Heror's shrill whistle of warning.

"Loki! Look sharp, a storm approaches!"

At first I was inclined to ignore him, irritated beyond words at having been
interrupted. "Go away, Heror!" I growled, for my contrary stallion was nuzzling the back of
my neck insistently. "Go take a nap, damn it!"

The black stamped both hooves, uncomfortably close to my foot. "No time for love,
idiot magician! Use your eyes and brain and take a look at the horizon."

Swearing, I tore my eyes from Marissa. "Heror, this had better be good, or else I'm
going to cut your damn tail off, I swear it."

But Rocket was whinnying in alarm too now, his eyes rolling. "Look to the east. It's
a tornado!"

I did as the horses ordered and felt the last vestiges of desire flicker and fade,
drowned under a tidal wave of sickening dread. "Norns have mercy!" I hissed, all the blood
draining from my face. "God Almighty save us."

"What is it?" Marissa cried, also on her feet. "Jesus Christ, Loki! A twister."

The funnel of swirling black wind was coming towards us at terrifying speed.
Without warning, out of nowhere, it was like a finger of doom, sweeping away everything in
its path. Small animals came racing by us, driven by fear so great they ignored the fact they
were in the presence of man, all they cared was seeking shelter from the terrible thing bearing
down on them.
But there was no shelter to be had. We were completely exposed out here to the fury
of the tornado, for even the horses could never outrun the black wind. Marissa stared at it for
one more minute, then began throwing the rest of the picnic supplies into the hamper. "The
rock, Loki. If we can reach the rock, it may give us some shelter."

"Right. I'll saddle the horses." I threw the saddle over Heror's back, soothing him
with a soft word. Luckily he was too smart to give me trouble and he trusted me.

Rocket was inclined to sidle and fight with me at first, half-rearing as I tried to saddle
him, but Heror whistled commandingly, "Settle down, you blockhead and let him saddle you,
for Equus' sake! You want to die here?" and at that the gelding came down, shaking in fear,
and remained still.

Marissa handed me the basket, which I lashed to the back of my saddle and she took
the blanket on hers, then we both mounted and rode hell for leather towards the shelter of the
Painted Rock.

The tornado was probably at the most ten miles away, and we could feel the wind
tugging at us even then, threatening to rip us off our mounts. Rocket and Heror didn't need
to be urged to run, they were flying across the ground at breakneck speed, sheer terror driving
them as it had their wild brethren. Not that I blamed them any. I had never seen a tornado
that size come up so quickly.

How had it happened, I wondered as I crouched over Heror's withers. The sky had
been a cloudless blue with no sign of any storm anywhere just half an hour ago. I felt the
hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Unnatural. There was something unnatural about the
way this tornado had just appeared. As if summoned up by magic.

The wind was growing stronger now, screeching like a banshee at our backs. I took
a quick glance behind me and saw to my horror that the swirling column was also
accompanied by purple lightning. I felt a sick sensation in my gut. This was no natural
storm, but one summoned by magic. I could feel the magical energy pulsing now, sending
quivers racing down my arms, setting my bones humming.

A natural spawned tornado was bad enough, exposed as we were. But a mage
conjured one was ten times as deadly.

I set my mage senses out, trying to read the signature of the mage who had conjured
such a disaster. And found Leif's sigil boosted by Gungnir's awesome might. Gods and hells.
What in all the realms have you done, Leif? Are you trying to kill me or was this mere
chance?

I had no more time for speculation. Whatever reason my rogue apprentice had for
calling up this tornado was not as important as surviving its fury with my skin intact. Not to
mention Marissa's. Who had the great fortitude not to panic once we reached the Painted
Rock, but dismounted, stripped Rocket of his gear and slapped the gelding on the shoulder,
bidding him to lie down. Then she pulled the picnic blanket over him, tying her neckerchief
about her face. Above the lavender cloth her eyes were wide and scared.

I followed her example, stripping Heror and bidding him to lie down next to Rocket.
Then I crawled beneath the flimsy shelter of the blanket and clasped Marissa's hand. "Loki?
How much longer do you think we have before . . ." she didn't finish, her throat closing up.

I hugged her close. "I don't know. Maybe fifteen minutes or so. Maybe half-an-
hour."

"Where did such a storm come from? It was beautiful weather not half an hour ago."

I shrugged, too angry at my reckless apprentice and too fearful for Marissa's safety
to answer. She huddled close to me, shivering, knowing as well as I did that such a thing
could spell both out deaths.

Softly, I began to whisper a ward spell, one of the strongest I could muster. I formed
a bubble of protective energy over us and the horses, encasing us in a cocoon of magic. I
threw all of my hoarded power and strength into the spell matrix, praying it would be enough
to outlast the fury of Gungnir. The Spear of War had not been unleashed in ages, and it was
hungry for blood.

I could hear its voice in the howl of the wind, the voice of all those souls clamoring
for vengeance.

I cursed myself for a lamebrained idiot then. I should have seized the spear when I
had the chance and to seven hells with everyone else. Instead I had allowed myself to be
gulled into waiting, thinking that I would be swifter than my apprentice and able to counter
any move he made. I had been lulled by love's sweet song, caught in a web of my own
making, I admitted ruthlessly. Now I would pay the price.

Marissa was saying the Our Father beside me, her voice low and laced with fear. She
knew as well as I the dangers of being caught out in a tornado. Rocket whickered in fear and
I reached out and patted him, bidding him to be still.

He quieted under my hand as I used a trickle of magic to keep him calm. The last
thing we needed was a fear-crazed gelding on our hands. From beyond the ward I could hear
the shrill scream of the wind increase.

I pressed my cheek against Marissa's hair and murmured softly, "Don't be afraid,
sweetling. I'll protect you."

It was a stupid thing to say, but it was all I could think of to alleviate her fear.

"How?" she asked shakily. "You going to pull a miracle out of your magic hat,
Loki?"

"Something like that," I answered, and then I turned her face to mine and kissed her
gently.

Some of my strength flowed into her and she ceased to tremble so violently.

"We picked a good day for a picnic, huh?" she joked feebly.

"Wouldn't be complete without a little danger."

She snuggled closer. "Well, at least if I die, I'll do it in good company."

"We aren't going to die, Rissa."

"You say that like you mean it."

"I do. Trust me. I'm doing everything in my power to make sure we live through
this."

"Like what?"

"You'll see. Hush now, dearheart. I need to concentrate."

I called upon the strength of the earth, which was wild and untamed and had not been
summoned to the hand of a mage for centuries. Nevertheless I wrestled with it and twisted
its strands into my wizard ward. It was like trying to hold back a raging river with a paper
dam I knew, but anything was better than nothing.

That done, I called out to Belle, warning her of the tornado's threat. *Warn everyone
about it, child!* I ordered.

*What about you? And Marissa? Where are you?*

*We're under cover. Don't worry about us. Just do as I say. I can't talk anymore.
I love you, Belle.*

*Love you too. Be safe.*

Then she was gone and I was left to face the fury of a mage-spawned tornado.

The tornado swept upon us with a soft hiss and a howl that nearly burst our eardrums.
And between us and it was only the fragile shield of my magic, which was beginning to
buckle under the strain of repelling a wind that was blowing over a hundred and twenty miles per hour.