Episode 10: The Magic I Know, Chapter 5

"I thought we established that didn't have any effect on me?" Ezekiel wondered aloud when he saw the artefact Jenkins returned with.

"That was a long time ago," Jenkins replied, removing the glass, bell jar cover. "Back when you were precisely that, had limited ties to anyone, and nobody was aware of your unique genealogy. Also, we're not aiming for the worst version of you: we're aiming for the god of mischief. I do believe any version of Loki is likely to be the worst version of you we shall ever encounter."

Ezekiel's brow wrinkled as he wrapped his thinking around the knight's logic. "Thank you, I think."

"Don't thank me yet!" Jenkins quipped. "With this in play, whatever version of Loki we get will be trouble. You might struggle to do what you have to; then we might struggle to get you back." He looked to the genie. "Will it work?"

"The trickster brings out the worst in people, no matter which culture he is taken from," the genie replied, nodding once. "The relic is sufficient."

XXXX

The blade of Heimdall blocked a low strike from Loki's short sword, deflecting the incoming arc of the staff and calabash. It was an easy blow to avoid: Doctor Cillian was unpractised in its use and, as Loki, his technique didn't improve much. Loki's spear would have served him better, its shorter length providing a greater balance with the sword. She feinted low and swung the sabre aloft to bring it down on her foe's head. A trickster is hard to fool, though, and Loki caught the sabre between the crossing of his two weapons. Too late, Heimdall saw the error in her move. The differences in height, in weight, and in power meant that she was slowly, inexorably being forced backward to the tunnel wall. Behind her opponent, Heimdall caught glimpses of the

fiery flashes of Frey's fight; at least in that encounter good seemed to be triumphing over evil. She felt her back hit the cold stone wall. Fire flashed in Loki's eyes, echoing the fight beyond. The sabre fell from Heimdall's hands and Loki pinned them to the wall with his staff, drawing the short sword back. His eyes glowed, his lips pulled back into a grotesque grin of glee, as he prepared to strike the death blow. Mad laughter spilled from the trickster's mouth, echoes bouncing up and down the tunnel until they filled the air with sound. The echoes died away. Heimdall's eyes narrowed, locked with those of her enemy. There it was: the subtle shift that told her the time had come. It was now or never. Bracing her back against the wall, she raised both feet and kicked, pushing out with her heels right at the level of Loki's sternum. The god's eyes widened. The man hit the wall. Cold and quiet, Doctor Cillian slumped unconscious on the tunnel floor. Heimdall looked down and smiled. It had worked. The trickster had been tricked. The Thief had stolen the fire from it's god.

XXXX

The sound of chanting drew Thor and Sif onward, the glow of Sif's golden hair illuminating the tunnel as they ran. Hammer in one hand, shield in the other, Thor could only throw out an arm to stop his beloved as a dark doorway loomed out of the gloom before them. The chanting grew louder as he approached, warning his lover with a look to stay back, lest the light of her enchanted locks warn the enemy of their approach. He glanced cautiously down the new corridor, darting his head back with an alacrity that warned Sif they had finally reached their goal. Raising the hood of her robe, she dimmed the light of her hair and edged towards the opening, pressing close to her husband as she glimpsed round the corner herself. A dark corridor extended from the corner, its end invisible in the darkness. Part-way along it a second opening, an arch embellished in ornate carvings, opened into its side, spilling cold coruscations of rainbow light into the passage and throwing into dark relief the silhouettes of two great wolves. They sat either side of the arch, obviously on guard. The light shimmered silver on the closer one, gold on the other.

"You know how to use that thing?" Sif murmured into her husband's ear, tapping the hand that held the hammer.

"You're asking me now?" Thor returned, raising an eyebrow at his wife. "It comes with the avatar," sighed the Librarian beneath, and the Guardian in Sif was almost certain she could hear the difference. "Like Stone and the axe, or Cassandra and magic."

"You take the gold one then," ordered the mother of the hunter god. "I'll take the closer one."

"As you wish, my love," nodded the most powerful of all the Norse gods and Librarian combined. He took his wife's face in his hands and kissed her. "I love you, wife."

Sif, and Eve, smiled, taking in every lineament of his beloved face. "I love you too, husband."

"Let's go save the world."

"Twice before Friday."

XXXX

Odin followed his adopted son through the corridors of the temple. There was no hiding their arrival: light flashed from fireballs at Loki's fists; high, mischievous laughter – the laughter of the fae – rang through the halls. Feet hurried towards them, heading directly for their beacon of sound and light. A figure rounded a corner. A fireball whistled past the figure's head.

"Watch it, Sparky!" Heimdall drawled, straightening from a rapid duck. "I come in peace!"

"The others," demanded Odin. "Where are they?"

"Thor and Sif went on ahead. Frey's dealing with a few new anger issues by taking them out on a fire giant. The rest you'd better see. Come on: this way."

Throwing a glance at each other as she turned back down the tunnel, Loki and Odin hurried after the vanishing form of Heimdall. They stopped short when they saw what she was leading them to.

A tall, handsome woman knelt on the rock hewn floor, cradling a faintly glowing form on her lap. Idunn looked like a statue cast in gold and ivory, the ugly purple-blue marks on her neck seeming painted on in the wavering light.

"What happened?" Odin growled, watching Loki fall to his knees by the quiet form with a cry of loss.

"Her father," sobbed the woman on her knees. "Her father happened. Oh, he didn't use his own hands – he used someone else's – but he used them nonetheless. The same way a bank robber might use a gun."

"He has a new sceptre: Anansi's calabash," explained Heimdall. "He made Frey – Stone – do this."

"I'll kill him," growled Loki, fire building in his eyes.

"Too late, I already did," murmured Heimdall. "We need to get her back to the Library though, just in case."

"In case?" Professor Cillian looked up, frowning. "In case what?"

Odin gently lifted Loki and moved him aside, kneeling and pressing two fingers to the pulse point on Idunn's neck. "In case she does it again. It would not be the first time, Professor, that your daughter here has cheated death. Come."

He lifted the slight and silent form in his arms, standing as he did so. Professor Cillian rose with him and held out her arms.

"I held her on her first day into this world," she said, taking Cassandra into her embrace. "I carried her home then. I can carry her home now."

Odin met the austere Professor's steel gaze and nodded. He turned to Heimdall. "Go with them. You've vanquished your nemesis. Let us take the battle from here. One of us needs to be there if – when – she wakes up."

Heimdall nodded and led the mother and child away from the fighting towards the relative safety of the Library.

Heading for the dancing glimmer of firelight, Odin and Loki followed the sounds of battle to the chamber where Surt still fought with Frey. The giant roared and flared like flames in a wildfire, now huge, now small; now filling one corner of the high roofed chamber, now slipping under the thrust of the sword as small as a lump of coal. Frey ducked, dodging a fireball aimed at his head. Another fireball struck the giant full in the face, forcing him back, staggering and shaking his head.

"Which way?" Odin yelled, scanning the three new doorways that led off the chamber.

"Left!" Frey called back, nodding thanks to Loki and turning his attention back to the still conscious giant. Apparently you can only fight fire with fire to a limited extent.

Odin and Loki raced on through the tunnels, the latter lighting the way with the angry, red glow of fire. Odin watched his young companion as they ran, seeing the ire seething through him. His own future had been secured, but they had both just received a reminder that only he and Seonaidh were guaranteed safe passage through this turmoil. Odin had been on the receiving end of that reminder often enough that it no longer shocked him the way it used to. The Thief hadn't had the benefit of his experience and it showed. Fire flared from Loki's fists, a white hot core of rage at the centre of each palm. He might have his wife and daughters ahead of him, but that would be small consolation if he lost his friends tonight.

XXXX

The hammer returned to Thor's hand, its work done. The golden wolf, Skoll, lay unmoving just beyond the light of the arch. On the nearer side, Hati lay dead, blood staining the silver fur pink. Side by side, Thor and Sif charged into the room beyond.

The halls, rooms, tunnels and chambers of the underground complex were vast and ranging, twisting and turning, rising and falling, always leading the daring explorers somewhere new. Some it led to openings into areas yet unseen. Some it led to secret exits and entrances. Others it led here. Light poured into the atrium from an impossibly high ceiling. Rainbow light. It shimmered and danced on the time-worn rock floor. In the centre of the room, where the light was strongest, a figure stood with arms upraised chanting in a loud, steady voice.

Thor blinked.

"No," he shook his head, "it's not possible."

"We eat impossible for breakfast remember," nudged Sif, casting her eye over the other occupants of the room. "And we have slightly bigger problems right now, my love."

"That's not quite the quote, my love," replied Thor, refocussing on the more immediate issues converging on them.

"Correct later, fight now," ordered Sif, shifting her grip on her sword. "You take snake-boy, I'll take the other two."

Thor nodded agreement and looked up at the towering serpent rearing up before him. And up. "The bigger they are," he murmured, hefting the hammer in his hand.

The still human jaws of Jormungand opened wide and kept opening. An inky black forked tongue darted out. Needle-sharp teeth filled the mouth it returned to. Human torso aloft, arms reaching wide, the Midgard Serpent flashed a coil of his huge snake's body towards the god of thunder. He knew his fate. He knew his job. He would lose this fight – it was written so – but his sacrifice would bring forth the new world. All he had to do was keep his nemesis engaged long enough for the rest of his companions to lose. By rights the tiny man before him should lose too, but She had not wanted that. She, his queen, whom he would serve in life and death, had determined that this frail being alone would survive to see his army fall and hers triumph. She had willed it so and so it must be.

The hammer flew from Thor's hand, speeding upwards with the crack of a sonic boom, then the thud of the hammer hitting flesh. The snake curved backwards, its body bending around the impact of the hammer. The hammer returned. The serpent followed. Thor caught the hammer and raised his shield, acid venom hissing down the impermeable dragon scale.

"Of course he spits venom," muttered Thor behind his shield. "Of course it makes the floor sizzle."

On the other side of the room, Sif, mother of the hunter, blocked the lunging maw of the great wolf with the shield in one hand and slashed at the hound of Hel with the sword in the other. Her sword already dripped red with the blood of her enemy. Another strike drew more red blood onto the blade. The dog, Garm, howled in pain. The howl was drowned out by a roar of rage as Fenris-wolf charged again. A fireball interrupted the wolf midway, knocking it sideways and setting sparks fizzling through its fur. Sif risked a glance behind. Loki and Odin approached. Beyond them, Sif caught a glimpse of golden fur prowl through the archway.

"Behind you!"

Odin turned in time to deflect the pounce of the golden wolf, turning fully to engage it in battle with barely a nod to the others. His eyes cut through the glamour of the wolf avatar. Within it was a spirit he recognised.

"Was this really what you threw away the Library for?" Odin yelled, circling the wolf, it's attention fully on him. "Not even a lackey of the boss, but the lackey of a lackey of the boss? Really?"

"I had my own reasons for turning my back on the Library, growled da Vinci's voice through the wolf's mouth. "My freedom for one. My success. My name will live on forever!"

"So has Faust's," snapped back Odin. "Didn't do him much good!"

"Faust was an imbecile," growled the wolf. "He thought only of his life, not his legacy!"

The wolf charged, claws flashing like steel in the rainbow shimmer. Odin brought his staff down upon him with a crack. A quarterstaff is a formidable weapon in the hands of the man who once beat Robin Hood. Especially while he wears the avatar of the Allfather. The wolf lay still. Blood dripped from its shattered skull.

"You always did think sharp things were more effective close up," muttered Odin, kicking the pile of dead flesh. "Some legacy!"

Garm and Fenris-wolf circled their prey, the woman wielding sharp steel, the young man raising burning palms aloft. They turned in the circle, back to back, each keeping a snarling set of jaws in view. The grey lips of the wolf sneered backwards.

"You cannot defeat us, boy," Mhairi's voice rasped through the unfamiliar larynx. "Do not think my daughter's fondness for you will save you. I showed neither her nor my own grandmother mercy, why would I even consider showing it to you."

"You're not as powerful as you think!" Loki yelled back, a wild grin catching the corner of his mouth. "Seonaidh survived. She'll go on surviving. So will I. Can't say the same about you."

"Switch with me," interjected the lady Sif, golden tresses floating around her as if carried in a breeze of their own devising. Two short steps, swift and practised, brought the huntress and her pupil to face other foes.

"Why?" Loki demanded, his aim now settled on the hound, Garm.

"You really want to go back when this is all over and tell your sweetheart you killed her mom?" Sif suggested, levelling the blade at the towering giant wolf. "I guarantee you it will win you no Brownie points!"

Loki shrugged. "I kinda get the feeling she'd understand."

"Trust me, that will only make it worse!"

Fenrir lunged, snapping at the blade in Sif's hand. On the opposite side of the circle, Garm did likewise. Fire flashed. A yelping howl sounded from the dog, a snarl of fury from the wolf, blood dripping black from a new cut in its muzzle. The snarl roared out again as Sif pressed home her advantage, forcing her opponent back towards a dark shadow that loomed in the floor.

Garm staggered back, pawing at the sparks that fizzled in the fur around one eye. The eye was gone, a hideous melted scar oozing fluids where it had once been. Laughter bubbled up from the young trickster. Another fireball flew over Garm's head.

"Who are you then, oh mighty Garm?" Loki demanded, sending another fireball zipping between the dog's feet and giggling when the creature jumped. "Are you da Vinci? One of the flunkies who attacked us at Threave? Not even that?" The hound snarled its defiance. "I know you not Cassandra's mum, and I know now you're not Seonaidh's, so who are you?"

"Don't you know me, Mister Smith?" Garm growled watching Loki's fiery hands with his one remaining good eye. "Shouldn't a good thief always know who he's stealing from?"

"Ah, from dogsbody to dog's body, I should have known!" Loki trilled. bowing his head a little, still keeping his two eye's fixed on his enemy's one. "How's the archaeology game treating you these days, Professor? Dug up any good bones recently?"

"Been a little busy arranging the end of the world, actually," quipped the hound in return. "Yourself?"

"Been a little busy stopping you, truth be told," shrugged Loki. He bounced a fireball up and down in his hand. "Here boy! Good dog!" He flung the fireball. "Fetch!"