Chapter 24

Sif heard Volstagg shouting orders as she charged ahead, the Palace guards running close to her. An Elf engaged her in combat, trying to wrestle her shield off. She bashed his face, making him recoil, then slashed at his throat. Forming a circle around them, Svartálfar ships dropped their camouflage and started shooting. Just in time, Asgardian skiffs joined the fight and interrupted the aerial attack.

Despite the confusion, Sif saw something coming from the forest. Something flying at a high speed. She turned to yell a warning at Thor, but her cry died in her throat.

Loki was there, wielding Gungnir as he fought a bewildered Algrim. Before she could react, the flying object landed next to the Prince and the Dark Elf, causing a shockwave that launched everyone, Sif included, several meters away. When she scrambled to her feet, she saw Thor, wielding Mjolnir, going for a still prone Algrim. He grabbed the Dark Elf by the throat and lifted him, Mjolnir crackling with electric energy. The clouds now covered them, attracted by Thor's power, dragging the rain to where they stood.

Thor put his hammer to Algrim's throat and moved his mouth, but Sif couldn't understand what was being said. The elf's left hand was so swift she only registered the movement when she saw Thor doubling up in pain. She screamed, rushing towards him, but two elves ambushed her and she had to invest all her senses in that fight, lest she would be overwhelmed.

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Thor's scream echoed in the battlefield over the sound of clashing swords and exploding beams of energy. As he doubled down in pain, Algrim used the movement to slip away from his grasp. Thor swung Mjolnir, but the Elf dodged with ease as he prepared his own sword for the opening the Asgardian had left.

However, his blade struck Gungnir when Loki blocked his attack; the younger Prince swung back with such strength Algrim had to regain his footing lest he would fall backwards. Before he could recover, Loki used his previous swing's momentum and had the spear's blade pointing at the Elf's throat.

"Conniving worms!" the Elf grunted, his face contorted in an angry snarl.

His hand moved, quick as a snake, but Loki was faster and dodged the flying dart just in time. It was meant for his eye but only scratched his right cheek. As Gungnir's blade was far from his face, Algrim rushed forward, his sword lifted, now that Loki had left his side unguarded.

The younger prince spun on his feet and hit Algrim in the elbow with the blunt end of Gungnir. The Elf screamed as his blade fell to the muddy ground.

Thor had recovered, yanking the dart lodged in his side and trowing it away, his blood washing away almost immediately in the pouring rain. Now the Elf was disarmed! He charged, bringing his hammer down, but Algrim dodged again, rolling on the ground to where his sword lain, grabbing it and getting on his feet in one smooth movement.

The three warriors stood at a standstill while chaos ensued around them. Algrim hadn't lost his conceit but, at that moment, drenched and covered in mud, Loki could see there was something else mixed with his expression: a hatred that went beyond any rational thought, an emotion that was primal and raw.

The eldest Prince was the first one to attack. Algrim dodged Mjolnir with ease, squatting and then rushing forwards, slashing at the Prince's side, exactly the place where the first dart had hit. Thor bellowed, more out of rage than out of pain, and swung Mjolnir back. Algrim ducked, but as he did, he didn't see Gungnir's point going for his torso. He grabbed at the spear just in time. It found the small opening below the chestplate and pierced the flesh, but didn't reach any organ. The force of the thrust sent him some steps backwards, his hand on his chest.

Thor readied Mjolnir, lifting it upwards. A bolt fell from the sky, taking a Svartálfr ship on its path, and fell on the hammer and Thor. Sparkling with electric energy, Thor charged towards Algrim, swinging his hammer and bringing it down.

The electric explosion caused a shock wave which displaced the rain falling above them.

Mjolnir held suspended for a few seconds in the air, its target untouched.

Thor looked a the hand raised before him and the force field it had conjured. Behind that hand stood a Dark Elf, as tall as Algrim, leaner than him, but much more imposing. Grey eyes stared down on Thor full of loathing, the only readable emotion in an otherwise inexpressive and finely chiseled face, which would have been beautiful, but the left side's flesh was darkened, as if burnt by a fire and reconstructed by magical means. Unlike the other Elves, his bright, white hair was loose, cascading past the shoulders in thick locks.

The force field had thrown Loki backwards, but Thor didn't dare to look back to see how his brother fared.

The mysterious Elf, with a flicker of his wrist, pushed Thor and threw him on his back. The Prince scrambled to his feet and looked at his new adversary. His attire was different to the other Svartálfar's: instead of ivory, the accents were crimson, with the upper part of his armor transitioning at the waist to a flowing coat that reached his calves, as if it was a tunic. A long, black cloak was draped around his shoulders, pined upon his left side with a brooch of dark metal, shaped like an eight pointed star.

When he spoke, his voice was deep and booming, as if coming from the depths of his own world.

"You begged for an audience," he said. "And here I am. Where is the Aether?"

"Malekith, I supposed?" asked Loki. Despite the energy blasting, the Prince walked nonchalantly until he stood beside his brother.

"The royal line has been improving, I see," Malekith observed in a scathing tone. "Your subjects told tall tales about the Princes of Asgard, pity that such princes can't live up to their own story."

"We are devastated that the Sovereign of Svartalfheim doesn't find our hospitality to his liking, and had to come down from his flying fortress to express his dissatisfaction," Loki said.

Thor threw his brother a glance. That was no moment to jest! His eyes, however, paused for a moment on the hand that wielded Gungnir: the muscles tensed in a rhythmical manner. Loki only used that signal when they faced someone with potent magic powers.

"We already told your lackey," Thor continued, catching on to what Loki intended. "We don't have the Aether, we don't know where it is, and even if we knew, we wouldn't tell you. You are free to go search for it yourself."

Malekith held Thor's eyes for a long moment, impervious to the rain soaking his clothes and his long, white hair. But when he spoke, he gazed towards Loki or, more precisely, towards Gungnir.

"When I woke up from my slumber and saw a new universe of light, my heart hungered for revenge. I had expected Bor's race to have become stronger, so that my victory was all the sweeter. But seeing what has become of Asgard, I curse Bor now. He took the universe from us, he pushed us to near extinction, for what? A decadent, weak kingdom and a royal house in decline is what remains of his ambition. This only proves that we were right: the light only begets weakness and degeneracy, and must be purged."

Several things happened at the same time. Malekith raised his hands towards Loki, who conjured a shield to protect himself. Thor spun Mjolnir to gain momentum and launched it at the Dark Elf, but at the last moment Algrim, who had slowly sidestepped away from them as they spoke, tackled Thor, sending the two of them tumbling several paces away.

Loki's shield couldn't withstand the blast of energy from Malekith, which pierced it and hit the Prince on the chest. Loki nearly fell to his knees, clutching Gungnir with both hands and gasping for air.

"You poor child," the Dark Elf sneered, slowly stepping closer to him, energy gathering in his hands. "You thought you could wield that spear and measure up to me. What use is an universe where you never get challenged and you grow weaker by the day?"

Loki said nothing, too busy trying to keep his concentration. An image flashed in his mind: a gigantic, shapeless shadow pounding at a barrier around him. Something had happened when he recovered his powers in Midgard, and now each time he tried using his most powerful incantations, he felt as if that barrier grew weaker and that creature was closer.

He swung Gungnir at the last moment, when the Dark Elf was close enough, a spark of golden light flashing when the blade met Malekith's spell and blocked it, but barely. The Dark Elf slowly advanced as Loki kept defending with the spear, but each time a blow seemed about to land, Malekith deflected it without effort. Dread grew inside him as he noticed how the Elf's thin lips slowly curved upwards, as if he found a perverse pleasure in playing with his prey.

Loki tried to distract him with his duplicates, but Malekith ignored them and rushed towards him at a speed the Prince couldn't anticipate.

The pain was as sudden as it was burning. Time seemed to stop for a moment. All he could see was Malekith's face, the half-mended, though otherwise beautiful features, contorted in a cruel smile which broadened when he pushed the small blade further in.

Then the Dark Elf yanked the dagger away from Loki's left side. The Prince's vision swam as he felt the burning sensation spreading inside him. He tried using Gungnir as a baton, but his legs buckled under him.

Far from delivering the coup the grace, Malekith kept watching him with sadistic pleasure, the small blade still in his hand, the rain washing away Loki's blood.

Croaking of ravens. Two black shadows swooping down on Malekith. A booming sound nearby, like the one Thor did when landing.

Sight going blurry, sound growing dim.

Two hands wrestling Gungnir from his grasp. Silver hair, silver beard. One eye.

His chest hurt, the ringing in his ears was deafening.

Cold, muddy earth against his right side. His left side numbing and burning at the same time.

Gold and crimson shadows fighting before him. Another shadow, silver and red, joined in. Lightning. Blue and gold energy against red one.

A white gold burst. The red shadow disappeared and with it all the white and black ones.

Flash of a golden mane. Strong hands grabbing him and shaking his body. A voice, powerful and deep, screaming his name from far, far away.

Vertigo. Vertigo.

Darkness.

Silence.