As I turned toward the light, my mind scrambled for purchase. We stood on a narrow strip of rainbow mist that swirled around our ankles like alien algae on the surface of a mystic lake. A strong scent that reminded me of cherry blossoms hit me and I glanced around. I had expected sky above and around us, but there was just an endless sea of navy blue, starless and maddening in its flat constancy. I focused ahead to break the daze and saw a transparent shimmer on the other side, a rough opening, its edges wavering so that it had no definite size. To the right of the opening stood a bulky male figure in some type of armor, his stance rigid. His back was to us and he held a spear in his left hand. Long, strawberry blonde locks spilled down his back but were unmoved by the breeze sweeping by us in a steady howl. Heimdall.
I leaned to get a better look at what lay beyond him but another hulking figure obscured my view. It was impossible to make out details in the mist, but the long, golden tresses, the huge hammer standing on its head by his feet, the thunder that exploded as he stepped forward all confirmed his identity.
I struggled against Loki’s grip and shook my head. “No, I don’t belong here.”
Loki pulled me forward, my feet sliding on the surface beneath the fog as if I were gliding on ice.
“It’s best not to fight me,” he said. “The closer I am to Asgard, the better I can harness its power, and Thor’s. If Bren arrives before we are across, there will be an unpleasant confrontation, and Thor wants him home in one piece.”
My heart sank. There was no right action to take now. I hadn’t listened to what Bren had told me, hadn’t trusted him, and this is what I had caused.
“You’ll have an eternity to wallow in self pity,” Loki said, yanking me along. “It’s a favorite pastime of those in the netherworlds.”
We were at the halfway point now, and as I peered at Loki, I noticed he had changed. His coat was open and his t-shirt was ripped at the collar, the muscles of his chest bulging against the cotton. His hair had grown longer and I watched it pale to the color of straw before my eyes as it blew around his face. I felt hot breath on my neck and glanced around, strangling a scream in my throat as Fenrir stared back at me, his yellow eyes now level with mine. I gasped as his enormous pink tongue shot out and grazed my face.
“What’s happening?” My voice was thin and high.
“As we get closer to Asgard, we become our true selves.”
I looked down at myself. My size hadn’t changed, but my skin had taken on a pale glow. I pulled a lock of my hair between my fingers and eyed it. It was just slightly longer, the color a touch more vivid.
Loki watched me. “Yes, it’s fascinating. Isn’t it, Toto?” He reached up and gave Fenrir a firm pat.
Thunder sounded again, this time in the form of words.
“Our time grows short.” The voice was loud on the bridge, but didn’t threaten my eardrums the way it had before. Loki tightened his grip on me again, but before he could take a step, we heard more rumbling. We froze, listening. The sound wasn’t coming from Thor. It was behind us.
I turned and peered around Fenrir in time to see Bren bursting onto the bridge from Ringsaker.
Fenrir hunkered on his hind legs, a growl rising in his throat. Loki yanked me behind him and braced himself for a fight.
“He can't win,” Loki said as Bren ran toward us at full speed. “I stand between him and the source of his power. It will be no contest.”
Bren sprinted, his hoodie ripping across his chest and arms and neck. Huge muscles worked in relief against his clothes, his sleeves finally shredding up to his shoulders. His hair, long and flame red, streamed out behind him. His expression was an angry snarl. I watched as his strides grew longer, pounding the bridge.
Loki raised his palm toward Asgard’s portal and waited for a surge of power. When he began to twitch, he let go of me and aimed his other hand at Bren. The air rippled between them even through the cruel wind, but Bren jerked to the side and avoided the blow.
Another surge from Loki conjured a swell on the bridge that rode toward Bren like a wave. He watched, timing it, adjusting his strides until it reached him, and hurdled it neatly.
Fenrir barked - a deep, echoing boom - and prepared to leap.
“No,” Loki shouted, halting the wolf. Fenrir’s haunches trembled as he held himself back, and I wondered, in the sick anxiety of the moment, if Loki was afraid Bren would hurt Fenrir. Loki turned to Thor. Thor’s image became sharper in my vision as he stepped toward the threshold.
“Do something,” Loki yelled.
Behind Bren, Dag and Frieda ran side by side, forcing Frey behind them as they all barreled toward us. Dag’s t-shirt had already torn clean off his body under his new bulk and his hair flowed in a wide sheet behind him. Frieda’s clothes were intact except for a few tears in the upper arms and shoulders of her shirt and one jagged rip in the left thigh of her jeans, but her braids hung thick to her waist, and her eyes were even larger and greener than usual, a gleam of fury in them that I had never seen before.
Frey roared as they continued to box him out, weaving to try to get through. His transformation was the most stunning. His shirt was gone as well, and I saw that he was bigger than Brian and Matt put together and had more muscle than I knew existed. His dreads coiled down past his shoulders, and his usually warm gaze had grown wild and turbulent. He raised one arm, bicep bulging, and pulled at Dag’s shoulder, but Dag shook him off without glancing back.
“Do something,” Loki yelled again.
I watched in horror as Thor reached down, grasped his hammer and lifted it above his head. Heimdall turned slightly and pointed his spear in warning, but Thor ignored this and brought the hammer down, smashing the ground.
The bridge began to buck. Huge swells rose and moved toward us, the slippery surface beneath our feet rocking. As the waves passed underneath us, I grabbed onto Fenrir’s flank and held tight, my hands rooted in his fur as I was thrown from side to side. Loki held onto me, his agile footwork avoiding most of the blast.
Bren picked up his pace. “Jenna, hold on.”
Hearing his voice again, even in this new surreal and rumbling form, after our terrible fight and all I had done to cause this disaster, was enough to make me tighten my grip and hope.
The first swell knocked them all over. First Bren, who sprang back to his feet the second he hit the ground, then Frieda and Dag, who fell back into Frey. As Frieda slid toward the edge of the bridge, Dag scampered and yanked her back, crushing her in his arms for a moment before helping her up. Then they were sprinting toward us again, Dag holding onto Frieda’s wrist, Frey still weaving behind them as Bifrost tossed.
Bren was gaining on us now, and my heart pounded with fear and worry. As the waves settled, he ran up on Fenrir, lunging left and right to get around him as the dog matched his moves. I pulled at Fenrir from behind, but he ignored me as easily as he would a fly on his back. Finally, Bren faked right and skirted him, whipping by me as he lunged for Loki. The wolf turned, vaulted himself over Bren’s back and landed between them. He whipped around to face Bren, the familiar snarl running like a motor.
Bren stared into Fenrir’s eyes. “Back him off or I’ll blind him,” he said to Loki.
Loki hissed and moved in front of the wolf. Fenrir’s muscles tensed but he stayed put, the rumble in his throat rising.
"We are going home." Loki said. “All of us.”
“No. Only you.” Bren narrowed his eyes at Loki and advanced, his chest and shoulders heaving with anger.
Loki took a step back. Bren reached out and grabbed him and Loki returned his grip, the two caught in a clench, their foreheads pressed together as they struggled.
“You harness the power of the hammer to fight us,” Bren said as he strained to push Loki back. “But how much of it is your own?” Bren drew his fist back and struck Loki in the jaw. Loki reeled, but when Fenrir hunkered, Loki bounced back and hissed him off before he could spring.
Loki grinned and swung at Bren, but Bren parried the blow and caught him with a right hook. Loki fell into the mist, disappearing for a moment beneath the rainbow swirl, then staggered back to his feet, his grin growing wider.
“I’ll kill you before I let you have her,” Bren said.
Frieda, Dag, and Frey were closing in fast. Loki glared at them. He cocked his head to the side, seemed to listen to something for a few seconds, then returned his attention to the others. “I would rather die than return alone,” he said. "How about you?" He walked backward in long strides, closing half the distance between Bren and Asgard, then stopped and spread his feet wide apart. He took in a long breath, his nostrils flaring, his eyes locked on Bren. “Now.”
I stared over Loki’s shoulder. Thor brought his hammer down again in a resounding smash just as Heimdall thrust out his spear and drove him back. I squinted, unable to see them now except as vague shapes somewhere beyond the portal. Heimdall had managed to stall the blow so that the huge wave rose on the bridge and then hung there, its momentum teetering between forward motion and settling back.
“That power does not belong to you,” Bren called. “It will drain you.”
“It is the power of Asgard,” Loki called back. “You're the one who chose to abandon it.”
The rainbow peak quivered in place. Loki cried out in frustration and lifted his hand and the swell finally tumbled forward. Trembling, he raised his other hand toward us as he had before, his head still turned toward the oncoming surge as he drew in the last of its strength.
Bren lunged at him.
Loki had just enough time to take aim. His blow rushed toward Bren for just a moment before he lifted a palm to stop its flow. Like a gushing stream, the disturbed air buckled around Bren's hand, leaving him unharmed, and forked away on either side of him. As the currents rejoined behind him, regaining speed and force, they struck Fenrir. He skidded back into me and I clutched at his fur, both of us sent reeling. We slid over the edge of the bridge, Fenrir with his claws buried in Bifrost’s slick surface, me with mine buried in Fenrir’s smooth pelt.
I was dangling in gray oblivion. The vibrant mist hung above me now like a blanket of cotton candy. Numbness seeped into my feet and crept up my legs. I watched as the bridge twisted and rippled, Bren and the others struggling to stay upright. I remembered Skye, lying unconscious or worse, somewhere outside of all this. I saw Loki grab Fenrir with both hands, yanking at his ruff, his midnight eyes staring into the wolf's with panic and dread. But all this was far away now, like a childhood story, something I had known but was no longer a part of. The numbness had risen over my head, enveloped me, and I no longer remembered why I was holding on.
Panting, Loki began to raise a hand toward the portal, but quickly grasped us again when he felt us slip.
“Pull her up,” Loki whispered to the wolf. “Then I'll pull you over.”
Fenrir’s massive head turned and he lowered his muzzle to my shoulder. I caught movement in my peripheral vision and watched Bren lurch forward and barely avoid the edge as the bridge swung in a violent arc.
“Bren,” I mumbled, surprised by the flat tone of my voice, and slipped from the reach of Fenrir’s jaw. But some nagging cell in my brain insisted I fight this, so I gripped the long tufts of his fur as tightly as I could, cinched my legs around him and hung on. The wolf dipped his head again, too far above me now, and whined an apology. I was not disappointed. Oblivion would be better than knowing I had done this to Bren and his family. It was good to feel nothing.
Fenrir and I dangled, my body numb, my senses nearly deadened. The clamor of the others was distant noise. Loki clutched Fenrir’s neck, his shoulders flexing, his face a mask of strain as he heaved. As I stared at his anguished face, a realization hit me like a tiny sun in the graying regions of my mind. He had to pull me up first to free Fenrir, but if he had read my thoughts, then he knew I was so terrified of him that I would have dropped rather than extend my hand to him. His agony was evident as he stared into Fenrir’s eyes - he would spend every last drop of energy he had trying to save the dog, but if he lost me, he would be returned to whatever nightmare he had emerged from.
All he had to do was reach for my hand, but he was so sure I would refuse that he didn’t even try.
But if you change yourself, lose your fear, the mountain changes, too. It was Bren's voice, a bright echo in the whitewash.
“Loki,” I said. His frantic eyes jerked to mine.
“Pull me up first. You’ll be strong enough to save Fenrir then.”
His expression changed to one of confusion as he shook with effort.
“All you have to do is send Bren and the others back,” I said.
“What are you saying,” he rasped. “You know I can't do that.”
“I know you will,” I said, forming my words with great effort. I tightened my hold on Fenrir. “Send them back. Lift the bridge so that it bucks them out. Let them go, and I’ll go with you. No matter what happens, I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you. You have my word.”
Clatter rose around him on the quaking bridge above, but I hung in the quiet nothing below. It was like ground control speaking to a crashing plane. As the seconds passed, I glanced to Bren and the others, staggering toward us as they fought the swells. Once the bridge settled, the struggle would resume…as long as I was on it. Perhaps Thor was summoning the elders even now.
“Loki.”
As he peered down into my face, Fenrir slipped a little and we swayed.
“You’ll lose us both otherwise. You’ll lose everything.”
“Why would you offer this?” He legs trembled as he tried again to hoist Fenrir up over the edge. Fenrir whined and licked his cheek.
“Because I trust you."
His eyes locked on mine and narrowed.
“If you can take care of Fenrir,” I said, indicating his hold on the wolf with my eyes, “then you can take care of me. I won’t abandon you.”
He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “I know you don’t believe that now…but if Fenrir can put up with you, don’t you think I can? Just send them back, and we’ll deal with whatever’s waiting together.”
His expression froze, his focus turned inward. I waited, my chin digging into Fenrir’s back as I stared up at him. I had made the only choice I could. It was my fault they were all here, and I was their only way back. I thought I could make it in whatever horrible place we were sent if I knew Bren and the others were safe…if I held onto the love I felt for him.
Loki was watching me now and I shook off my thoughts, praying he hadn’t seen them. To distract him, I reached my arm up as far as I could, my knees pressing into Fenrir’s flanks, and extended my hand. As he stared at it, his whole body went still.
Fenrir slipped and dug in harder, snarling with effort.
Without warning, Loki flung an upturned hand toward Asgard. A roll of thunder sounded from the last ripple on the bridge and it rose, rushing past us. As the force washed over Loki, he pivoted and turned his palm on the receding swell, urging it toward Bren.
We slipped again.
Bren’s eyes grew wide and angry as the surge reached them and connected with breathtaking force, knocking them all backward beyond my view. I heard them shout in protest, heard Bren scream a furious ‘no’ that faded into another world, my world, and in the next moment I was redeemed, flying up through the air, my senses engaging, the cherry blossom scent flooding my nose once more before it all went black and there was nothing.
Chapter 31