Chapter 10
Maybe it won’t be so bad if the elves alert Asgard, and presumably Odin, that Loki is in Alfheim. Maybe Odin will just take Loki, send Beatrice and Amy home, and be on his way.
Or maybe he’ll leave Amy and Beatrice in Alfheim forever.
Amy swallows. The truth is, no matter what mercy Odin might grant to her and Beatrice, Amy’s worried about Loki. Twisted and perverted as he may be, if it weren’t for him she wouldn’t be alive — or have ever seen a hadrosaur.
Hands shaking, Amy drives up the road to the elf palace. The sky has turned overcast. There is no starlight, just the light of the green orbs that seem to be the elven version of street lights. A light drizzle is in the air. At the top of a staircase of long low stairs, four elf guards stand in front of the wide front door. As she gets closer, they cross their spears. It will take a long time for Beatrice to get down those stairs...and Amy still has to find her.
Biting her lip, Amy stares at the guards. And then she is struck by inspiration.
Pressing a button on her keychain, she lets the car alarm shriek. The guards visibly jump.
From the door the elf in black who had spoken to Loki emerges. “What going on?” he says.
Turning off the alarm and switching into 4 wheel drive, Amy sticks her head out the window. “My car, he wants to come in — we hurt his feelings leaving him out all night and now he’s worried about Fjölnir and Beatrice!” Hitting the gas, she edges to the stairs. Craning her head out the window, she adds, “Please, open the door! He’ll be good if you just let him in and we find them.”
The elf in black says something to the guards again. They eye the car warily but open the doors. The man in black runs inside.
Slipping back into the driver’s seat, Amy puts her foot on the gas and bumps up the steps.
She hits the horn as soon as she gets into the foyer and then jumps out of the car. Pressing the alarm button again, she says, “Don’t go near him! He might bite!” Then she runs around the car towards the dining hall and her mouth falls open.
The elf in black is leading four other elves who are carrying a large chair between them. On the chair slumped over asleep is Beatrice.
Looking visibly worried, the elf in black says, “She drink too much our mead. Beastly chariot not angry?”
Amy’s mouth forms a small ‘o’. “I think he’ll be fine if we just put her inside and he can see she’s alright.”
Shaking his head, the elf in black says, “We not mean insult. Not know chariot have feelings.”
Trying to keep a straight face, Amy says, “It’s okay, I’m sure he’ll understand...” She looks at her grandmother snoring softly. Maybe it’s for the best she won’t be awake. She has a feeling this will be a rough ride.
x x x x
Running down the steps of the secret passage, Loki has no idea how he’ll manage to round-up Beatrice and Amy in time to escape the grounds in only a few minutes.
He bursts into the first private receiving chamber, still lit by fireflies. And then he hears it again. The car...it sounds so close. Could it be?
He runs through the door, down a passage, and around a corner, and his eyes go wide. The car is parked in the foyer of the palace. Some elves and Amy are securing Beatrice in the back seat.
“That’s good,” says Amy. “Get out, please. Don’t make the car mad. He doesn’t know you, thank you, that’s good...now we need to find Fjölnir...”
She turns around and her eyes fall on him and go wide. “Lo — Fjölnir!” The car gives a happy little chirp. “Car is so happy to see you!”
Loki blinks for a moment. She’s lying; he can feel it.
Raising her voice above the murmuring of the crowd that is rapidly forming, she says, “Car wants to go home, so we have to go. Now.” She hops into the driver’s side, and motions to Loki to get into the passenger’s side. He hurries to comply, throwing his sack of armor and sword on the floor of the back seat in front of Fenrir and a gently snoring Beatrice.
Before he’s even closed the door, Amy’s sticking her head out the window saying,“Thanks for everything, everyone!” The car starts to move and she says, “Oh, sorry! Car is anxious! Long, lonely night for him! Got to go!” She pulls all the way into the car, turns it around, and heads towards the door and the stairs. The car gives a few more happy beeps.
Loki stares at her, stunned. It was all lies. Brilliant lies, on her part and possibly Car’s. How did she know?
“They sent messengers to Asgard, Loki,” Amy says, as they bump down the front steps of the palace. “I’m not sure...but I thought maybe we should leave.”
“Good thought,” he says. He owes this girl more respect than he’s given her.
A look of confusion crosses her face. “Where is your armor? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
But in some ways...she is really so naive. Normally, he might make a joke, but he feels too empty. “Drive as fast as you can; we don’t have much time.”
Scowling at the wheel, she says, “Why? What happened? ”
“Just drive,” he says.
“Did you get your answers?” she asks.
“Just drive,” he says. “Please!”
There must be something in his voice, because she hits the gas. It’s still dark outside. There is the soft patter of rain on the car roof. Ahead, a long shadow is covering the gate of the palace. Loki’s heart skips a beat. At his feet is the army knapsack. Reaching into it he pulls out a grenade.
“The gate!” Amy cries. “It’s open but the vines are down. Can they hurt the car?”
Loki has no idea. Before he can say anything, the girl says, “Is that a grenade in your hand? Use it!”
The top window opens. Loki’s not sure how, but he doesn’t have to be told twice. “Stop Car!” he shouts.
The car screeches to a halt and he stands up in the rain. Blinking to clear his vision, he flings the grenade at the curtain of vines. Pulling back into the car, he pushes Amy down so they are both protected by the dash. There is a boom, the car shakes, but the window does not shatter. They both sit up to see a large hole in the curtain, but long tendrils are already snaking down to close it.
Hitting the gas without even being asked, Amy grumbles. “I don’t want to be stuck here with these pointy-eared fascists!”
He looks at her for an instant. She is wearing clothing finer than she probably has ever worn or will ever wear again. Her hair is upswept, with crystal flowers woven into it. She looks radiant and beautiful, and if she stayed here the elves could help her remain so for a time...in her own realm she’ll be doomed to fade and age so quickly. Yet she wants to leave. Part of him wants to smile at her, but he can’t. His face feels frozen into a slight scowl and a frown. He has a lump in his throat that has nothing to do with her.
He hears a rumble of hooves and heavy feet behind them. “That will be the guards,” he says. He looks up; the top window is already closed. He touches his wet face and looks at the pavement shining beneath the green orbs.
Amy’s eyes go to the rear-view mirror. “What? Why are they following us? They seemed fine letting us go...maybe we should stop?”
Loki feels the car start to slow. “No, do not stop! It’s a ruse — the queen cannot let Odin think she let us go too easily.”
The girl speeds up a little but her eyes dart to the mirror again. “They’re closing in fast...” Turning her attention back to the road, she swallows. “I can’t go much faster than them on the hairpin turns, especially since the road is wet.”
“Go as fast as you can,” Loki says, bracing himself as she makes a sharp turn.
“I am, I am!” Amy says, a frantic note in her voice. Car’s wheels screech and Loki hears the shouts and hooves of the rapidly approaching cavalry.
He scowls. He needs to put on his armor, but their pursuers are catching up to them too fast. Reaching up, he taps the overhead window that now is closed. “Car, open up.”
Amy looks at him, eyes
wide. The window slides open, and Loki stands up.
“What are you doing?” Amy shouts, her voice just audible over the sound of the rain, the hoof beats of the elves’ horses, and the lowing of the hadrosaurs.
Not responding, Loki turns to face their pursuers.
“Halt now!” one cries in the elf tongue. “By order of the All Father!”
They don’t shoot at him, though some carry bows. Odin must want him alive — he won’t let that happen again.
Loki thinks of the brief flare of hope he had when he saw Valli and Nari in the pool disappearing into the hut, and then the cold realization just moments later when he saw the flames. Let the elves feel the hollow cold of his heart.
Car makes another sharp turn, and Loki is nearly thrown out. Righting himself, he focuses on the rain falling on his pursuers, and the water rivulets running down the cobblestone street. He sees the magic between the water and himself and he pulls on it, tugs at it, imagines the magic stilling the water, calming it, deep at the molecular level — so the water’s spinning hydrogen atoms lock together and crystals form on the ground and in the sky.
Horses scream and the hadrosaurs bellow in terror as the rain turns to snow, and the road behind Car turns to ice.
“What’s going on?” says Amy.
Loki falls panting back through the open window.
“Ice...you turned the road to ice...” Amy says, eyes in the mirror.
Turning his head, Loki looks back. Where there had been at least a dozen elves on horseback before, and two hadrosaurs, now there are no dinosaur mounts, and only four horsemen are left — but they are pulling out lances and looking very determined.
Rain is streaking in through the open roof.
Amy glances at him, eyes wide. “You probably broke the horses’ legs.”
“Not enough of them,” Loki says, lip curling upward.
“You can’t do that!” Amy says. “It’s not the horses’ faults!” She twists the wheel as they take another sharp turn.
He stares at her a moment in disbelief. And then his disbelief turns to rage, red and hot beneath his skin. “Fine,” he says. “I won’t use ice this time.” He stands up again.
“What — ”
He can’t hear the rest of what she says. He looks back at the horsemen in the rain. “Stop now, Loki!” one calls. “You’ll never get through the main gate!”
Loki lets his rage loose in a scream. What he expects to happen, happens. Magic rips the water molecules apart into oxygen and hydrogen, and excites the hydrogen atoms to the point where they burst into flame. But it should have just been a little spark in the air before the horses’ eyes. Instead a wall of flame forms between Car and the riders, as thick and as high as the flames that overcame Hoenir’s hut.
Loki falls back into the car, his eyes wide. Amy is silent, but he sees her hands shaking.
He hardly feels as though he’s exerted any energy at all. He looks over his shoulder. The flames still burn — he can’t see beyond them. Something is wrong. He’s not that strong. “Gala...” he murmurs to himself. “It must have been the queen’s doing.”
“What?” says Amy.
“She wants to let me escape,” Loki says almost to himself. “But needs it to look like an accident...”
The flames behind them make the window in front of them reflective for a brief moment. Loki catches sight of his face, slightly blue in the strange light. For an instant he is looking at his daughter Helen’s face, or half her face. He shakes his head. Is he going mad with grief?
Car’s wheels screech, and Loki’s body bangs into the door as they make another sharp turn. And then they’re at the marketplace. Car’s horn lets out a loud alarm. Some elves part and run in front of them.
“Ummm...” says Amy. “If she wants us to escape, why’d she lock the front door?”
Looking at the closed doors of the heavy metal gate, Loki’s heart falls. He doesn’t know any trick to open it — he can move small things with his mind, but this is too large, too heavy, and too fireproof. He looks down at the bag at his feet. There is one more grenade, but it won’t be strong enough...his jaw tightens. He reaches into the bag, and says, “Car, open your top window again!” Loki doesn’t remember when it even closed.
Hitting the brakes, Amy gives him a funny look. But the window opens. Standing up, Loki pulls the pin and hurls the last grenade. He pulls back into the car. Amy’s already ducking. Loki presses himself down as far as he can, his chest pressing against Amy’s back.
The blast goes off, and the car rattles. Loki and Amy both lift themselves up. The gate is closed.
“Oh,” says Amy, her shoulders sagging.
Loki closes his eyes. “I won’t be taken alive,” he says. “Not this time. I’ll fight to the death.”
There is a loud creak.
He opens his eyes and blinks. There is a shimmer of magic the color of moonlight, and then the gate creaks again and swings open. In the open way stands the elf queen, or more likely an astral projection of her, considering she floats above the ground.
In her own language she says, “Be gone from my realm, and set no more of my people aflame — or not only Odin will hunt you!”
Loki blinks. He didn’t create that inferno...did he?
“What did she say?” Amy says, hunching over the wheel.
In front of them, the projection disappears. “She wishes us well and bids us be on our way,” says Loki.
Amy puts her foot on the gas. “It sounded more like she was angry.”
“Mmmm...” says Loki settling back into his seat. “Go quickly as you can. The armies of Asgard will be upon us quickly.”
“Armies?” squeaks Amy, turning out onto the lane that will take them to the Border Road.
“Don’t worry,” Loki says. “I’m sure you’ll be able to convince Odin that you were deceived by the God of Lies and he’ll spare your lives.”
Car’s lights become even brighter and Amy speeds up. Her voice shaking, she says, “I would rather you not die either.”
Loki looks over at her, his mouth still frozen in a frown, his brows still knit together. He brings destruction to everything he touches, and everyone he loves. He wants to die.
Amy casts a worried glance in his direction.
He cannot die now. He has an oath to keep.
Without a word he turns in his seat and begins to rummage through the makeshift sack for his armor. Beatrice is still asleep, but Fenrir eyes him curiously.
He’s got his shirt on and is awkwardly attaching his breast plate when Amy turns onto the border road. She steps on the gas and they surge forward at what feels like dizzying speed. They’re still in a relatively populous region; farmlands line the road on their left. They don’t have to worry about dark elves just yet.
He tilts his head. Over the elf queen’s lands, the sky is just starting to lighten.
He’s sure it must be taking all of Amy’s concentration to remain on the road, but then she begins to speak. “You were blue for a few moments when the fire started. Is that your natural color? I thought Frost Giants only turned blue when they were cold.”
He freezes, his hands on the buckle of an arm guard. “I don’t turn blue.” He isn’t Helen.
“You looked blue,” says Amy.
“That was a trick of the light,” Loki says, his voice coming out nearly a hiss. He doesn’t have time for this inane chatter.
“You looked good blue. Not like in the movies with pointy teeth and a giant horny head,” she says her words running together as though she’s just speaking to hear herself speak. “More like — ”
“Be quiet,” he snaps.
“I thought you weren’t sensitive about your Frost Giant nature?”
“Frost Giants are not blue!” he says. “I should know. I’ve been one for more than 1,000 years!”
“Huh,” says Amy.
“The forest is approaching,” says Loki, turning his attention to the mail links that cover h
is right elbow. “If you hit anything or anyone just keep going.”
“Just because the queen thinks the elves over there are bad doesn’t mean they are!” says Amy, slowing down as they slip into the forest.
Looking up, Loki blinks at her, surprised how much of Alfheim politics she’s managed to divine in such a short time. Ordering her isn’t going to work. He sighs inwardly.
“No, they’re not,” he says quietly. “I’ve had dealings with Dark Elves before. But trust me, any Dark Elf that would choose to attack Car merely for transversing the border road isn’t one you should stop for. Under any circumstances.”
Amy swallows and her hands shake even more violently.
Loki turns back to his armor and curses. The plate that covers his upper left arm is completely missing. He grabs the piece for his forearm and attaches it best he can, without the anchor of the upper section.
It’s only a few minutes later when a shadow seems to fall on the land in the East, and the wind and rain outside them pick up.
“Ummm...” says Amy.
“Thor,” mutters Loki, narrowing his eyes. Is Thor Odin’s puppet once again? Or is he here for some reason of his own? To beg forgiveness maybe? Not that Loki could give it.
A streak of lightning turns the realm bright as day.
“What are those shadows in the sky?” Amy says.
“Valkyries,” Loki says, the word spitting out of his mouth. His mouth twists. “Not here to beg forgiveness after all.”
“Forgiveness?” says Amy.
“We have a few minutes,” says Loki twisting to reach into the backseat “Concentrate on the road,” he says. “I need to eat something.”
x x x x
Amy is trying to concentrate on the road. Rain and wind are whipping through the sky. It might be her imagination, but both seem to be getting stronger.
She shivers. Her back is still damp from where Loki leaned over her as the grenades went off. Her eyes dart over to him. He’s still wet, armor half on, stuffing peanut butter into his mouth with a spoon, a liter bottle of Coca Cola open in his lap. He hasn’t spoken to her since grabbing some food. How can he be eating? Her own stomach is heavy with fear, and her mind is swimming with everything that’s happened this evening: the elves, the hadrosaurs, and seeing Loki in a lovely robin’s egg shade of blue. Trick of the light or not, it had been strange, lovely, and as magical as the fire, the ice, or his astral projections.
She takes a shaky breath. Loki says he’s over 1,000 years old. She can’t even imagine that.
Whoever’s chasing them is likely just as old or older than him, possibly more powerful...
That’s too much to think about. Taking a deep breath, she glances in the rearview mirror. Beatrice is thankfully still asleep. Fenrir is awake, her nose darting from side to side.
Amy looks at the clock on the dash. Fifteen minutes ago Loki said, “It’s Thor.” It feels like an eternity, and like only a heartbeat. Tightening her grip on the wheel she speeds up.
Lightning rips across the road just 50 yards in front of the car. A humanoid shadow is haloed in its light. Amy screams, hits the brakes, and tries to dodge it.
“Keep going!” Loki yells. His hand shoots to the wheel and holds it straight. Whoever it was hits the car and sinks below the hood. The car bumps sickeningly.
“Hit the gas!” Loki says.
But Amy’s foot is on the brake. “No,” she says. “We hit someone! We have to stop.” Even if it is a criminal.
“He’s fine!” Loki says, “Go!”
“No, I can’t,” Amy says.
Something bangs against the back window of the car. Amy turns and screams again. There is a huge mouth filled with sharp teeth attached to the flat plane of the back window. Fingers with suction cups are at its side.
She hears the sound of a thunk as Loki drops his bottle of cola.
“Drive!” shouts Loki twisting and crawling into the back.
Amy floors it. She looks in the rearview mirror. Loki obscures most of the view, but Amy can see the thing is still there. It doesn’t seem to have eyes or nose...just that huge maw.
“Car, open the back window!” Loki says.
“What?” screams Amy.
“Just let Car do it!”
Amy hits the button at her left and the window begins to drop. Over the sound of the wind comes a horrible noise like lips smacking, and then there is a gurgling noise and an inhuman scream.
“Roll up the window!”
Amy doesn’t have to be told twice. She raises the window, and Loki pulls back into the front seat, his sword in his hand, something dark and black at the point.
Another bolt of lightning rips across the road.
“Next time I’ll just keep going,” Amy says. “I’ll just keep going.”
Looking at the ceiling, Loki says, “There isn’t going to be a next time. Thor and the Valkyries are almost upon us.”
Amy bites her lips. “What do I do?”
“I’m going to try and make us invisible,” Loki says, his voice very calm. “You’ll still be able to hear everything...but you’ll only be able to see things outside of Car, you won’t even be able to see anything inside, not even yourself. I’ll need you to keep driving though. Can you do that?”
Amy nods. “Yes...I think so.” Not because she thinks she can, just because she doesn’t like the idea of what may happen if she can’t.
The words are hardly out of her mouth when everything in front and behind her starts to fade from view.
Her foot hits the brakes. She hears the sound of tires on pavement, the thump of rain on the roof, the engine. But she can’t see the car, Beatrice, Loki, even herself...She takes a ragged breath.
Loki’s voice comes from her right. “It’s disorienting.”
“Yes!” Amy shouts, maybe just to hear her own voice.
Loki’s voice sounds tight. “You must keep driving.”
“I can’t see the dash, the steering wheel or the pedals!” Amy says.
“You don’t even look at those,” Loki says, his voice sharp.
That’s true. Amy licks her lips, feels the sensation of her tongue, cool and wet against her skin. “I can’t see myself...it’s almost like I’m not here.”
There is a moment of heavy silence. “How can I help?” Loki says, sounding like his voice is coming through gritted teeth.
“Would you touch me?” Amy asks before she’s even thought about it, and she almost wants to bang her head on the invisible steering wheel for making the suggestion.
In a voice that is surprisingly clinical Loki says, “You’re going to feel my hand on your thigh; it’s the best place for me to touch you without obstructing your ability to drive.”
Before she even has a chance to react, she feels his hand on her leg, large and warm, and as long as she doesn’t look down, seemingly solid. And it does help; she’s too grateful to worry about the implications of it. She puts her foot down on the gas and holds the steering wheel at 3 and 9 o’clock.
“Very good,” Loki says, giving her leg a pat. It shouldn’t be as encouraging as it is.
Amy nods and bites her lip. She’s just getting to the point where she’s feeling a little more comfortable when bright lights like lasers shoot down on the road and forest in front of them sending off sparks in every direction, lighting up weird hominid shadows as they do.
The shadows leap from the trees on the dark side of the forest. Amy screams again, puts her foot on the brake, and almost runs them off the road, but Loki’s hand is suddenly on the wheel, holding it firm. “They’re magical flares,” he says. “They won’t hurt us. Try to dodge them if you can, but keep us on the road!”
Shaking, Amy puts her foot back on the gas.
“They don’t want us dead,” Loki says as though the words are a revelation to himself. “They’re just trying to flush us out.”
Amy blinks. “The sparks will hit the car, and they’ll see them bounce...”
; “Exactly,” says Loki, his hand on her leg again.
“I think I can do this.” says Amy, speeding up. As long as she doesn’t have to worry about the blasts killing them, she feels much better. Also, they’re scaring the crazy shadow things away. And that’s good.
Amy zigzags through the flares that are falling down on the road.
At one point she thinks they’re going to roll over, but a few minutes later, the road ahead of them is clear. She looks in the rearview mirror, all the flares are bursting on the road behind them.
Loki pats her lap. “Well done.”
Her heart is in her ears, and she’s panting, but she laughs aloud. “We did it!”
The words are barely out of her mouth when she hears a loud clang. Sparks cascade over her head and down the sides of the car like a waterfall. “Uh-oh,” she says.
“Drive!” says Loki.
Amy floors the pedal, but up ahead and behind them shapes are falling from the sky. Another flare is fired directly towards them from in front; it explodes on the windshield, and suddenly the car and everything inside is visible again — but Amy can’t see the road at all. She puts her foot on the brakes, gently this time so they don’t skid.
She looks to her side. Loki is next to her. His face has a sheen to it, his mouth is open, and she notices he’s breathing heavily. He’s not looking at her. His eyes are focused on the road ahead of them.
Amy follows his gaze. About 100 yards ahead of them are women carrying spears, standing around an enormous man in front of a chariot without a horse. In the enormous man’s hands there is a hammer that is glowing with the pale blue white of lightning.
Loki takes a deep breath, and his voice comes out low, malevolent, but tinged with something desperate. “It is the mighty Thor.”
Uh-oh.