SHADOW OF DEATH

Chapter 12: Intruders

Loki woke in a startled heap on the floor of his stolen room. His heart pounded with adrenaline-laced blood and a blind panic froze him in place. Wide-eyed, he stared into the silent darkness of his room and attempted to situate himself. As the thumping of his heart lessened, he could listen outside his room for other noises –reminders of where he was and what had woken him.

Boots walked through the corridor outside his room but they did not stop. A gargled intercom voice called for an "Agent Morrison to go to Office 35D." These were usual SHIELD noises.

He stiffly rolled over and sat upright on the linoleum floor. His entire body felt damp with sweat.

A nightmare. Again.

His sleep had been plagued since The Incident in Jotunheim. After The Void, he could not tell the difference between his waking and his sleeping hours for they were all nightmares. It meant little to him whether he inhabited reality or remained within his subconscious for ghosts and monsters plagued both. Now, since The Flash, as he had come to call the Midgardian destruction of New York, his dreams had grown infinitely worse. Now they were infiltrated with traces of what had once been but would never be again. Bits and fragments of a distant past haunted him:

The golden sunlight shining off the roof of the palace in Asgard.

His mother's hands caressing his cheek as she sang him a lullaby.

Thor's booming and contagious laugh filling the entire hallway.

Three sets of little eyes staring up at him expectantly as he told a story by firelight.

A chorus of birds in a grove of trees by a cottage in the mountains of Alfheim.

He would bask in these glimpses of something so sweet and precious and so far away from him. Then he would wake. The reality under-girding those flashes of memory was now gone-swallowed up like the stars at sunrise. Immediately, his glimpses of joy or peace or familiarity would vanish, and in its place, he would be left even more desolate than before the dream and its reminders of all he had lost.

He knew, though, that what had woken him was not one of these dreams or even one of his now regular nightmares. This one had been another message.

He had known, when he accepted it, that the scepter was given to him to keep a leash upon him as much as it was granted to empower him. It both freed and enslaved him, as it freed and enslaved those he exerted its influence upon. Thanos wanted to make sure he could find Loki at all times and, thus, his treasure was safe in Loki's clumsy grasp.

Loki had plotted the destruction of the scepter a hundred times, but, as much as he did not like to admit it, he feared. He feared releasing control of his Midgardian army. He feared the loss of power. He feared what Thanos would do in retaliation for the loss of another of his prizes.

So, he kept it. Unfortunately, this permitted the Mad Titan to draw away his conscious mind (or unconscious mind) at his whim, as a king calls for his court jester for his own amusement. Loki endured the threats, insults, and (worst of all) gruesome fantasies of the Mad Titan for months. Loki knew his threadbare lies about his continued search for the Tesseract would at one point run dry, but he hoped to keep Thanos as far from him (and thus as far from Midgard) as possible. It was also possible (and highly likely) the Titan already knew of the destruction of the Tesseract and reveled in plotting his revenge. Regardless, Loki knew his currently unmolested state on Midgard could not last forever and he would need to work faster.

He sighed and stretched his tight muscles against the cold floor. He knew sleep would now escape him since the ghastly fragrance of the Other's corpse-like breath still clung to his senses. Once fully calmed, he rose and clothed himself and decided he would walk the streets of this Midgardian city again. The fresh air would do him good.

The early morning stars glistened above him, waiting the short hours before dawn. A cool dew cling to the grass and an eerie silence clung to the normally busy city. As he walked, he found himself wishing to be somewhere else and changed course. He emerged in New York and began to pace through the even emptier streets. He inhaled deeply and found the scent of concrete and charred buildings somehow comforting in its familiarity. He walked past the now mountainous pile of memorials laid in the center of the leveled portion of the city. The blackened, scorched spot which had been so unfortunate as to become the epicenter of the damage was now entirely buried with flowers, photographs, hand-written banners, candles, and gifts to honor the spirits of the fallen.

It was comforting, somehow, to remember he was not the only soul so lost and cut off from his kindred by the chasm between the living and the dead. While their years were as short as a blink of his eye, these mortals still loved their kin and grieved their loss with as much vehemence as any Aesir. Their experiences of life may prove as different as the sun from the moon from his own, but they were united in their shared experience of death, of the sting of mortality, and of the reminder that they could not stretch on for eternity. Their worlds, their peoples, their ways of life could vanish in a single moment.

And they also would wake from dreams of what had once been and taste nothing but the ash of memories upon their tongues.

Dreams like this reminded him that it could all be undone in an instant. The past few weeks had gone surprisingly smoothly around Midgard. His agents had proved their worth in the stability they had enforced across Midgard. Riots were squelched into peace in Los Angeles, Montreal, Paris, and Rio de Janeiro. Famine had been averted in the Horn of Africa and Siberia. His hand-chosen team of scientists and architects were already plotting how to re-purpose Midgard's inexplicable rubbish heaps into materials for rebuilding destroyed infrastructure in a way both aesthetically pleasing and more energy efficient. He would see Midgard healed and improved. Eventually. If Thanos did not make good on his threats first.

Loki pulled his cloak tighter around him and suddenly loathed the spot he found himself in. It felt too exposed, too bare. He spirited himself away and returned to the comfort of the walls of his stolen room. He barricaded the door tighter than he ever had before, buried himself in his bed under his blankets, and covered himself with a magic-induced slumber.

Frigga always warned him of the potency of that spell. Not even her magic could wake him if he used this spell, but he wished for nothing in all the realms to wake him. He wished to hide himself away-from dreams, from memories, from responsibilities-and so he did.

He never saw the blue-cloaked figure who entered his room during his slumber. He never suspected another's interference in the affairs of Midgard while he slept. He did not see the guardian appointed to keep watch over him. Instead, he simply lost himself in the solitude of dreamless oblivion.

Oooooooooooooooooooo

Two weeks later, Loki woke to a rumbling sound against his head and the feeling of some kind of creature touching him. In a foggy haze, he stretched out his hand to feel something unmistakably alive beside him on his bed. He opened one eye. There, he saw what at first glance appeared to be a small, orange feline. Yet, it could not be a cat for magic and power rolled off the creature in unearthly waves. He sat upright and transported himself to the other side of the room and gave the creature a wary glance from head-to-toe.

For the love of Midgard, why was a Flerkin in the SHIELD headquarters and, even worse, on his bed? He pulled a knife and held it towards the creature to keep it away from him. The Flerkin yawned, stretched its back, and slowly stalked towards him. As Loki prepared to lunge to ward off the dangerous beast before it forced him into a dimensional pocket for all eternity, he paused. He could sense traces of Tesseract energy still radiating off the creature as if the beast had been long-acquainted with the relic. The Flerkin appeared nonplussed by his defensive posture and insisted on rubbing its face against his ankle. The resounding vibration again filled the room.

"Be gone, beast," he hissed. The Flerkin only quirked his whiskered head at him and stared at him with its feline eyes. Loki sighed. He hoped if he left, the beast would leave him be. Such a long reprieve was a luxury he should not have indulged in. He would need to see what kind of state Midgard had fallen into during his absence. But first, he required sustenance. He transformed his appearance to that of a SHIELD agent and slowly cracked opened the door of his chambers.

To his dismay, the Flerkin insisted on following him down the hall. Loki hissed at the creature and attempted to shoo it away. He only succeeded in finding a furry body taking ownership of his feet and continuing to rub against his legs.

He looked up at the ceiling as if the tiles could rescue him. He did not wish to anger the beast, nor did he wish to befriend it. A Flerkin was a foe to be treated with healthy respect and distance. He made a sudden dash down the hall and, once free of his follower, he transported himself across the facility to an empty closet near the cafeteria.

He slipped into the cafeteria to obtain some overly salted, overly preserved Midgardian excuse for sustenance and contented himself to eat in a deserted corner. He could overhear chatter and banter and idle talk from groups of SHIELD workers strewn about also taking their meals.

It was the gossip of the place now. SHIELD would be relocating to two new locations within six months. The new secret underground locations would have impressive security clearance and would be located within two separate polities on two different continents to ensure no repeats of the complications of The Fall.

Loki smirked. He knew Fury suspected. Fury was too shrewd not to. Fury had sent agents to shadow Pierce's every move and report back to him if the man so much as brushed as teeth. It would only be a matter of time before Loki would free the man from the mind spell-only to imprison him physically for his past misdeeds. Pierce would, once again, prove himself unintentionally useful to Loki.

But Loki needed to find a replacement minion and that was proving difficult. As he continued to mull through possible paths and probably outcomes, his attention was drawn outward to the nearest table behind him.

"Marsha, I'll be right back," a man said. "I'm gonna get some sugar for my coffee. Do you need anything?"

"Nah, Bill, I'm good. Thanks!" a woman replied and Loki watched as the black-suit clad agent walked to retrieve some sugar packets and then rejoin his table mates.

Loki stared at the station of condiments the man had vacated and he smirked again. He released a minimal amount of his magic-just enough. The man poured his sugar into his coffee and carefully stirred. He stopped his inane conversation long enough to take a sip.

"Yuck!" the man spat. Loki turned in time to see the look of disgust on his face and the puddle of coffee strewn across the table.

"What?" the woman asked. She jumped backwards and busily mopped her shirt with a napkin, irritation marring her face.

"The packet said 'sugar' clear as day but that sure as hell wasn't sugar. That was salt!"

"I thought you liked salted caramel," the woman responded.

"Yeah but there's sugar and caramel involved in that. Not straight salt. I swear I dumped like five packets of pure salt into this. No amount of sugar or caramel would fix that."

"So you thought I'd be better off wearing it?" she said in disgust. Then the woman wrinkled her nose and sniffed at his cup.

Loki chuckled and left them still cleaning up the mess. He tossed another flick of magic across the cafeteria. He would enjoy his breakfast more if everyone around him amply sprinkled their scrambled eggs with sugar the following morning instead of salt. (He hoped it would prove as amusing a diversion as the day he ordered his band of Winter Soldiers to perform an Asgardian jig in the center of the National Mall. Or the day he cast an illusion of a set of eyes on the back of Fury's head. That day still made him snicker to himself.)

He lost all his momentary mirth when he found the small, orange and white furry body of the Flerkin waiting for him at the cafeteria door. Despite his disguise, the creature intentionally sought him out and despite his best efforts, the creature insisted on shadowing his every movement. When he traveled to the laboratories, the Flerkin followed. When he visited the communication center, the creature attached itself to his ankle. It wasn't until Loki entered the office of Director Fury that the creature would even leave his sight.

"I see you've met Goose," Fury said when Loki entered (dressed as Thor, of course).

"Goose?" Loki asked, raising one eyebrow. "You named one of the most dangerous beasts in the Nine Realms after an edible waterfowl?"

"Yeah, well, I didn't name him," Fury responded.

oooooooooooooooooo

It was time. Loki needed to investigate the coordinates given to him by Mrs. Johnson's mysterious contact. Affairs in Midgard had calmed enough to allow him to consider taking such a journey. The Midgardian Bifrost progressed, though not as quickly as he would like. And, most importantly, he could use the diversion.

Odin had spoken highly of his journeys through these regions of Midgard. Even Bor, ever the kingly image of stoicism and severity, had been impressed by the kingdoms he saw in his travels through the kingdoms of Egypt, or so Odin sometimes told them. During Loki's youth, Odin spoke of his earlier travels through the mighty kingdoms of Aksum and Nubia. He told of the great cities of Meroë and Mosylon and their expansive trade networks connecting the scattered Midgardians polities through exchanges of goods.

All Asgardians who traveled to these parts before Odin's ban, praised their mighty kings, impressive architecture, fearsome beasts, and even fiercer warriors. Of these, the greatest of all, had been the Kingdom of Shenga. Odin, Bor, and even Buri had been guests in the courts of this ancient kingdom during their Midgardian travels. Even then, it was highly spoken of for its technology and civilization and its warriors that even rivaled the strength of Aesir.

As Loki searched through maps and records, he could not find a single mention of Shenga or its capital at Birnin Zana. It was as if it had never existed in the historical records or annals of Midgard. They chronicled such minutiae as the drainage systems of cities in the Indus Valley, the refuse of Grecian cities, and the written laws of Ur. How could they misplace or forget about a land as once great as that of Shenga? How could such a land simply vanish?

In his initial research into the mysterious coordinates he had been given, Loki had not been sure it was the same location. However, as he slipped through the secret pathways and emerged outside the supposed borders of the country, his doubts vanished. What had once been known as Shenga must now be called Wakanda.

As Loki neared the border, Loki shielded himself from view and came to the edge of what at first appeared to be a forest. Upon further inspection he could feel the hum of energy pulsating in every direction and he knew.

It was all an illusion. An elaborate, powerful, brilliant deception. He neared the illusion and could feel its invisible power humming around him as he neared. Then he hit an invisible barrier with a jolt. He stopped and pushed against it with his hand but he could not pass through it. He then projected his magic through and what he could sense took his breath away.

It was a thriving city full of greater power than any of the cities of Midgard combined could achieve. The coordinates he had received would place him deep within that city. Someone had sent him here for a reason and he intended to discover that reason.

He carefully and invisibly walked the length of the shield until a collection of armed men drew near. They rode upon powerful horned beasts and carried spears and shields in their blanketed arms. They road straight towards him and he froze.

It wasn't possible. He was invisible. Yet, they came closer and closer and pointed in his direction. An older man accompanying them reached out his hands and Loki could feel the magic emanating from the man's body. True, he was hardly as strong as Loki, however Loki's mouth fell agape in the shock of seeing a Midgardian practicing magic at any level, let alone so aptly as to be able to distinguish traces of his own magic.

They could sense him. He couldn't deny it now. Somehow, they knew he was there. He vanished himself. He would need to form another plan in order to gain entry into Wakanda.

ooooooooooooo

T'Chaka, the king of Wakanda, stared quietly out the tall window of his throne room onto the bustling streets of Birnin Zana below him. High speed trains and agile hovercrafts swiftly passed through the through the tall buildings and tiled walkways between them. The setting sun shone off the bronzed roofs of the towers and made the entire city seem alive with light. In only a few more moments, the sun would slip below the distant mountains and into the forests and away from Wakanda. This was his favorite time of day and he drank in the sight of all Birnin Zana aglow.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps and the resounding boom of the opening of the intricately carved wooden doors to the council room.

"My King," his General said as she entered before him. She crossed her arms across her chest and bowed her head in a reverent salute. Then she clanked her metal spear against the marble floor and the echo of it bounced off the high ceilings above.

"General Okoye," T'Chaka responded with a nod of his wizened white head.

"I have a report from the Border tribe," she responded.

"Sema. Tell me," T'Chaka answered.

"They received an alarm of an intruder from one of the external shields," she said. "One individual approached our border and attempted to cross. When this failed, he…or she…or it scanned what they could of our internal structure and then disappeared."

T'Chaka raised one eyebrow and slowly turned to seat himself on the sturdy ebony and ivory throne. He crossed both hands below his chin and leaned towards Okoye, eyebrows furrowed deeply in concentration. He weighed his words carefully and methodically, as was his want, before he answered.

"It?"

"Yes," she responded. "We do not know what exactly it was. There was no heat signature and no visual imagery."

"Then how was the alarm triggered?" T'Chaka asked.

"None of our recently installed alarms were triggered. Our most ancient of protections sounded the alarm -the ones so old that none of the border guards even knew it was there. They had to call in Zuri to understand it."

"Aye aye aye!" T'Chaka said with a whistle, understanding dawning on his wrinkled brow. "You mean it was some kind of mchawi or mganga or some spirit creature who has triggered our magical protections?"

"Indio, mfalme wangu," she responded. "The fetishes and charms surrounding our borders have grown so old, we did not even remember they were there. We have grown so accustomed to our technological shields that we have paid little attention to the older ones. When the alarm sounded, and Zuri was called in to interpret the meaning, he discovered that, indeed, a powerful sorcerer with strong magic had been at our borders. My King, we have not seen this strong of magic since the times your ancestors' ancestors," she said solemnly.

"You mean…," he asked, and trailed off in thought.

"Yes, my King. It has to be."

"But I do not understand. He should have come to us sooner," he said, pensiveness marring his features. "I have heard tell of his return but why has he tarried so long? And why the secrecy?"

"I do not know," she responded.

"He will return. When he does, we will be ready," he said.

Okoye nodded her painted head again, saluted against her armored chest, and closed the carved doors behind her.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Author's note: I use Kiswahili and not Xhosa for Wakanda in my stories. I'll explain my logic and background for Wakanda in future chapters.

Goose the Flerkin is from Captain Marvel...and really was the best part of the entire movie.

Translations:

Mchawi: practitioner of black magic

Mganga: practitioner of white magic

Mfalme wangu: my king

Indio: yes

Sema: speak