Episode 9: Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler, Chapter 3

"Well, it's about time!" Charlene drawled when the door opened to admit Flynn, Stone and Cassandra.

"What do they look like?" Flynn whispered, as loudly and enthusiastically as a schoolboy.

Looking up from their desk, Eve raised an eyebrow. "What do who look like?"

"Cassandra can tell who we are by our magical auras!" Flynn blurted, unable to contain his excitement.

"How intriguing," murmured Jenkins, seeing Eve's one eyebrow and raising her another one. "And how long has this been a part of your clearly growing abilities, Miss Cillian?"

"Oh, you know," shrugged Cassandra, "a while now. I'm not sure exactly when it started. There was so much else going on and I don't generally make a point of watching everyone with my synaesthesia switched on and…"

"And we have a few more important things to worry about here," interrupted Charlene, glaring at Jenkins, who replied with an innocent faced, palm upwards shrug. "Caretaker my ass, you're as much a Librarian as the rest of them!"

"Either way, Ezekiel's got a breakdown of the main players in this final battle," broke in Eve, "and Flynn and I have a few ideas on how to use it. Stone? Cassandra? Other than an update on Cassandra's abilities – although we will come back to that – what have you got?"

Cassandra shifted from foot to foot. "Well, we know it would take three things to induce a change: one for power, one for focus, and one for effect. Now we know they want to change more than just one person though, so three things each, right?"

Stone took over the narrative. "Wrong. We know they have water from the well of wishes. Enough to make the power drain visible on the leylines map. We think they'll use the water as the power source for all the changes, not just one. That leaves a talisman for effect and something else linked to either the character themselves or their essential nature for focus."

The verbal tennis ball bounced back to Cassandra. "Take Loki, for instance: he's a trickster, he's a fire deity, he's a shapeshifter. Anything magical that links to any of those can be used for focus. Now, we know they had planned on using Loki's Spear as the effect, and that they were ready to use it, so whatever they had planned on using for focus they already have. We have Loki's Spear though," she broke off and glanced at Charlene and Jenkins for confirmation, receiving it in the form of a sharp nod from the former, "so they'll be looking for a replacement. Ideally that would be something associated with Loki, but if the item they have for focus is Norse they could get away with anything that represented a fire or trickster god."

"So Ezekiel," nodded Eve, placing a new sheet of paper on the desk in front of her and drawing the first few lines of a grid, "take us through the list of bad guys, one by one. For each one, I want to know who they fight in Ragnarok, and who wins, then we're going through the list of things they've got their hands on already and what fits with whom."

"Well, I guess top of that list is Hel," began the thief, his voice piping up from a spot at the foot of the stairs almost hidden by the last baluster. All eyes turned to him and he continued through the list, supplying the details the Colonel had requested as and when he could. So intent was he upon that list that he missed the puzzled frown that momentarily creased Cassandra's forehead. Admittedly, so did everyone else.

XXXX

Slippery, grasping hands clawed at Simmonds arms and shoulders, dragging him deeper and deeper into the stygian depths. His head was drawn inexorably beneath the churning surface. Fingers entwined in his short black locks, holding him down. Air burned in his lungs, too much carbon dioxide acidifying the blood in his veins. Blood pounded in his ears, delivering what few reserves of oxygen he had left to his brain. He choked on water no living being had ever tasted. With Herculean effort he reached a hand back to the knife at his belt, bringing it forward. He slashed through the water. He stabbed at the anonymous arms. The dark waves, foaming with the movement of struggle, bubbled an ichorous purple. From the depths of darkness and despair, the soldier arose.

Gasping, panting, dripping on the bank, Simmonds collapsed. He looked at his hands. In one he held his knife. The other was empty. The prize he had fought so hard to survive had escaped his grasp. He glanced around. His gear remained where he had sat it. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, dragging it back round to the end of the short jetty. The ferry had returned. In the silent craft, the ferryman stood; his hooded and eyeless gaze directed straight at the soldier. For a long moment Simmonds sat there, transfixed by the perpetual traveller and the weight of his unseen stare, until a familiar burning sensation forced him to let go the breath he had not realised he was holding. He blinked. The apparition was gone. The dock was empty.

Simmonds shook his head, dislodging both water and the residual terror it had left with him. There was more to his mission than simply collecting the water of the Styx. He had greater monsters yet to face, at least in size and quite possibly in ferocity too. His Queen had ensured he had the tools to deal with the most prominent of those problems, however. He pushed himself to his feet, shouldered his gear, and turned his face to the road ahead.

XXXX

Eve looked down at the sheet before her. It made grim reading. "This is not good! Are we sure they have all these?"

"The only people who have managed to get in here and remove items multiple times," replied Charlene with her usual candour, "are the Serpent Brotherhood. If it ought to be here and it ain't: they've got it."

"We can't be quite so sure all the items that have been reported stolen from the outer world were taken by them," added Flynn, one hand resting on Eve's shoulder. "They are, however, the most likely suspect."

"They've done almost as good a job as us at rounding up what they need," mused Stone. "Better, if you count what they actually stole from us!"

Eve ran her finger down the page and tapped at a few spots. "There's still a good deal they're missing though. At least as far as we know."

Jenkins looked down the page and pointed out a few blank spots. "They may not need anything here or here," he said, pointing at two blanks in particular. "The name of this wolf, Sköll, is sometimes translated as treachery, and I can think of at least two traitors of sufficient standing in their midst who might be able to use said treachery in place of an item for the 'effect' side of things, assuming we're right about the item used for a 'focus'. On the other hand, one of those two has fairy blood. That could be used as a 'focus' for many things, but especially alongside Fenrir's Chain. The fairy folk are known to be mercurial in their ways and allegiances in general, and have a liking for wolves if I remember rightly."

"Okay," nodded Eve, marking in the points Jenkins had made and scribbling names next to the characters. "Can we use that shortcut for anything?"

"That depends," rumbled Jenkins darkly, "on whom we are endeavouring to become."

Eve frowned down at the second list Ezekiel had handed her and sighed. "There don't appear to be too many good options. Almost everyone here dies!"

"In this version of ragnarok, the bad guys win," muttered Ezekiel, shrugging one shoulder half-heartedly.

"This version?" Eve queried, looking up.

Jenkins hummed and nodded. "The idea embodied in Ragnarök is indeed a cyclical one. Rebirth, renewal. All the things one associates with new starts. No matter who wins, there will be a new beginning for all who survive the battle, good or bad."

"Good pep talk," muttered Eve, eyebrows flashing upwards as she looked down the list once more. "Hey, Ezekiel: this seems a little lacking on our side."

The thief pushed himself up off the wall. "Believe it or not: that's all the main players. I added a few suggestions over the page though: characters I thought might fit the situation and who I thought they might match up with on each side."

Eve turned the paper over, aware that a small crowd was forming around her desk and craning to catch a glimpse of the papers before her. Librarians. They never did like not knowing something. A shimmering curl of titian hair bounced into her peripheral vision.

"Isn't she the one with the apples?" Cassandra wondered aloud, peering over Eve's shoulder.

"Apples?" Flynn blinked, craning to see. "You mean Idunn's apples? Why Idunn? She wasn't there in the story."

"Exactly," pointed out Ezekiel. "We have enough people here to bring in some players that were not there in the story. Maybe if the Norse gods had been able to, I don't know, heal or recharge or something, they might have won the day. Idunn's apples are how they do that, so I added Idunn."

"This ain't some video game, Jones," growled Stone, trying to peer over both Cassandra and Eve's shoulders. "You can't just reset to some save point if you die. We only get one shot at this!"

"No, Ezekiel's right," countered Eve. "You're right too: we do only get one shot at this. All the more reason, then to take our very own magical first aid kit with us. Idunn and her apples are the equivalent of an army field medic, right? So having her there should help us. We have the vial of apple juice. That would be what? Focus? Effect?"

"Either, I would think," nodded Jenkins, "but let's say effect for the time being."

Charlene, leaning back against the central desk, unfolded her arms and tugged at her chin in thought. "Who'd you pick for that spot, Houdini?"

Ezekiel opened his mouth to reply but Cassandra beat him to it. "Me," she said, avoiding Charlene's eyes, "although I don't exactly have a brilliant track record with apples. Well, magical ones, anyway."

Before anyone else could ask the question plainly written on all their features, Guardian and Librarian alike, Ezekiel rolled his eyes and began his explanation. "Idunn's origins are weird," he started. "She can wield magic, but she's not one of the Aesir or the Vanir. Some sources suggest she was a descendant of the elves. More importantly though, she was the 'ever-young', she could use magic, and she was the consort of Bragi, god of poetry. Put it together, that sounds like Cassandra to me."

"I guess that makes me Bragi then," shrugged Stone.

"Well, ordinarily, yes," shrugged the thief, "but you're kinda needed elsewhere. Specifically, Frey, one of the Vanir, who fights the giant Surt. Unfortunately, because he gave away his sword to win his giantess wife, Surt wins and he dies. Now my thinking is…"

"Ooh! Find or replace the sword and he lives!" Cassandra finished for him. "Jenkins! Do we have Frey's sword in the Library?"

Ezekiel bit back a grin and looked expectantly at the old man. "Jenkins?"

"It wasn't on the list…" Charlene began.

"In point of fact," interrupted Jenkins, raising an admonitory finger, "it was. It was simply listed as Skirnir's sword as it was given by Frey to Skirnir, his page, in payment for the wooing of the giant maiden Gerd. I believe I recall the location also. Prey do excuse me."

"Hold up," said Eve, looking back at the list. "We may as well work out what we do and don't have for all of these before we head off looking for stuff. Ezekiel: who is Sif and why is my name next to hers?"

Ezekiel launched into explanations, pointing from name to person and talking through the key features of each in turn. Here and there the others around him chipped in with suggestions of artefacts and relics, while Jenkins and Charlene nodded or negated each item onto Eve's ever-growing list. By the end, there were two lists laid out on the desk before the Colonel: one of relics to be retrieved from the Library itself; the other itemising artefacts to be hunted down and collected from the outside world. The first list she handed to the Caretaker to collate. It was only while breaking down the second into individual tasks that the group noticed one member was missing.

"Where's Flynn?" Eve frowned, scanning the room and mezzanine above for signs of her errant husband.

"He didn't leave with Jenkins, did he?" Cassandra offered, craning her neck to see round the bookshelves as if doing so would magically give her a clear view of the whole Library.

Charlene shook her head. "Nope. The old grumbler left on his own: I was watching. I didn't see Flynn go out that way either, either before or after Jenkins, and I think I'd have noticed if he'd used the back door."

"Well, that certainly narrows down our options," sighed Eve, peering up the stairs. "Cassandra, Stone: you two get on the trail of that feather. Charlene, Ezekiel: figure out what we're gonna need for your avatars."

"Oh, I have mine sorted," smirked Ezekiel, dismissing the task with a wave of his hand. "No point not working that out before I gave you the list. It was an easy one."

"Then go figure out the missing ingredient for Charlene's," shrugged the Colonel, heading for the stairs. "And once you've worked out what we need, go get it! Charlene…"

"Way ahead of ya," drawled the veteran Guardian, reaching out a hand to grab Ezekiel's collar. "Come on, Houdini: let's you and I have a little chat."