Fragments of your Soul (The Mirror Worlds Book 1) (18 page)

Arvid was about to make a remark, but at that moment a small group of loudly laughing and chattering people approached and took the free seats at their table. A fat woman sat down next to Arvid, and it got very cramped. Arvid instinctively moved away a bit in Loke’s direction.

“Well then,” said Loke. As Arvid turned round to him again, he was almost uncomfortably close. “Would you like to dance?”

Arvid hesitated. “With you?”

“Of course with me.”

“But… you’re a woman.”

“So what?” Loke leaned toward Arvid, who instinctively retreated. “Some people would kill for the right to dance with a god,” he whispered.

Although Arvid had observed several same-sex couples at the festival, it seemed strange to dance with a woman. She couldn’t say why she finally agreed anyway. Maybe it was the unpleasant crowd at her table, or perhaps also the wine, of which she had at least drunk two cups too many. Maybe it was also because Loke, in a nondescript way was so beautiful that Arvid had the subliminal urge to look at him some more.

Only when she had risen, Arvid noticed how slow her reactions had become from the alcohol. The room around her didn’t seem to be one hundred percent in balance anymore. When she made a remark about it, Loke laughed, grabbed her hand and pulled her with him.

Arvid had thought that dancing would be an unbearable and evil end of the feast. She had set out to just complete the compulsory dance and then stay away from the dance floor. Having overcome her first, wine-dulled inhibitions, she enjoyed herself better than she had for weeks, though. Loke didn’t follow the dance steps as accurately as Arvid had learned them from Aleri. Here and there he made an additional swing, and after a short time Arvid automatically fell in into these dynamics. She didn’t move nearly as elegantly as Loke, and yet she didn’t seem to be able to stop smiling.

Arvid had to admit that she was disappointed when Loke eventually apologized with a polite bow and disappeared. Almost simultaneously, however, she started to feel a leaden weariness in her body. Nod was gone. Aleri, Enild, and Thoke sat at a table that was completely overcrowded, and so Arvid sat down on an empty seat near the entrance.

She peeked over at the table of honor, where Lanfei excitedly chatted with Borgarr and a handful of masters loudly laughed and drank. Coth wasn’t among them or the dancers. Arvid’s eyes sought the clock. With horror she realized that the ninety-third hour had already dawned. She got up and hurriedly left the room.

When she shortly afterwards stepped outside, wrapped in a blanket, there was sudden silence. The low, dulled music of the festival reached her, but other than that, the noise of the icy wind was the only sound.

Arvid’s nervousness increased as she slowly went down the stairs and approached the fireplace. The flames had been extinguished long ago, and of the bright blazing fire, nothing but a heap of smoldering ruins remained. They spread a dull glow and a gentle heat, but no one was here.

Slowly Arvid rounded the stony round and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. When she reached the other side of the fire, she stopped and looked around. Nothing moved. Had she come too late? Arvid was about to move on, when she suddenly heard a rustling noise behind her.

Heart pounding, she turned around. At first there wasn’t anything but impenetrable darkness, but then she spotted him. A few steps away from the fire, so that the last glow of the embers could just barely reach him, stood the stranger from the orchard. She took a deep breath, then resolutely walked toward him.

“I hope you liked my little riddle,” said the man. “Have you come to a solution?” He came to meet her with unhurried steps.

“I… was able to read your letter,” Arvid said evasively.

“Obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t be here now. How do you like your new soul gem?” He gently tapped on a spot on Arvid’s chest. Automatically she looked down, only to find that the necklace was completely hidden under the blanket.

“How can you even know about that?” she asked, startled.

Her counterpart chuckled. “Isn’t that pretty obvious by now?”

Arvid looked at him with growing confusion. He looked the same as when she had met him in the orchard. He had pale, freckled skin and long red hair that was braided into small braids. His eyes were green, and this fact made Arvid stop short. His eyes had not been green when she had seen him the last time. She had searched books for descriptions of gods long enough in order to clearly remember that he had had hazel eyes. As their eyes met now, she immediately knew why. Surprised, she took a sharp breath.

“So you really have the gift,” Loke said approvingly, but Arvid felt a sudden anger rising inside her.

“In how many different shapes have I met you?” she asked sharply. “You probably think it’s funny to make a fool out of me!”

“Of course, why else would I play with you? But don’t worry. I have neither the desire nor the time to follow you in unfamiliar shapes.”

“No, that’s what you have Nod for!” Arvid said angrily.

“Right,” he replied, unimpressed. “But now that you know how you can recognize him, this will probably change.” He lightly grabbed her arm. “Walk with me. This isn’t a good place for a talk.” He turned and walked toward the orchard. Although Arvid seethed, she followed him.

“So?” said Arvid. “How many times have we met?”

“Before this day, and apart from our conversation in the town hall, only once,” Loke said. “Oh, no, wait—twice. But the first time doesn’t count.”

“Outside the shed,” said Arvid. She was surprised that it had not been more often. “And you were the blonde woman in the green dress that was here together with Thor, am I right?”

“You are. I guess it will be more difficult for me to take advantage of your ignorance from now on.”

“You bet. I’ve read a lot about you. I can’t say that I was overly impressed by it. If we are to believe the stories, it’s never a good idea to support your plans.”

Loke chuckled. “Maybe not,” he said. “But are we?”

“Are we what?”

“To believe the stories,” Loke said. “They tend to have two sides, you know? In addition, not everything that is written in books is automatically the truth.”

Arvid didn’t know what to say to that. In fact, Master Coth had warned her about believing everything that was written about Loke. On the other hand, she doubted that all these stories were fictitious, and there seemed to be a few traits that recurred in far too much of what she had read about the god beside her.

They had reached the tool shed, but Loke went on. The snow reflected the modest light coming through the cloud cover and wrapped their surroundings in a cold gray. The closer they got to the cliffs, the more nervous Arvid felt. The terrain was steep, and she knew that somewhere down there the circle of protection lay hidden under a layer of snow.

“We should not go too far away,” she said eventually. The shed and the last trees of the orchard were long out of sight. In front of them the outlines of some rocks emerged from the snow.

“Don’t worry,” Loke said. “I have as little desire to cross the circle of protection as you.”

Arvid looked at him, surprised, but Loke now paused and gestured toward the rocks.

“Let’s sit down,” he said. “I know you are warmth-loving in nature, but I can’t risk someone overhearing our conversation.”

Arvid was freezing, yet she followed Loke’s invitation. She sat down on the rock, which was shielded by two other, larger chunks. As soon as she was out of the icy wind, she felt a bit warmer. Still, she shivered as her eyes fell on Loke, who was dressed only in a thin cloth tunic and wore neither cape nor cloak. How he could endure the cold was beyond her, but it was another question that was foremost in her mind: “Do you also feel pain when crossing circles of protection?”

“Yes,” Loke said. “The circles react to certain… properties of a soul. Interestingly, our souls are similar in some minor respects.”

“Oh? How would you know that? You hardly know me.”

Loke smirked. “For the same reason you could recognize me even though I looked very different. Do you know how and by what you can identify a shapeshifter?”

Arvid thought for a moment, then shrugged. “By their eyes,” she said then. “But I don’t know why. Your eyes were quite different, but I recognized you anyway.”

“The eyes are a window to the soul,” said Loke. “It is not the eyes you see. You only look into them. It is what lies behind them that is important.”

“You mean… it’s the soul you see?”

“In a way. To recognize individuals by their soul is a gift all shapeshifters are born with, and you have the good fortune to possess this gift, too. Thanks to this gift, I could see that a part of your soul is like mine—a little bit at least.”

“Is that why you help me?” said Arvid. “Aeldjarn said that you don’t help anyone out of sympathy. He warned me about you.”

“Everyone you ask about me will warn you,” Loke said. “You really shouldn’t trust me. I’m a murderer and a traitor with scarily great power. I bring death and chaos and unscrupulously deceive everyone, if that helps my plans.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Is there more to say?”

Arvid looked at him coldly. “You’re a liar,” she said then.

“That’s right, I almost forgot.”

“I guess my advantage is that you want something from me,” Arvid said. “What kind of favor do you expect from me?”

“I have a plan. For its implementation I need someone who has a certain gift. By now you should know which one. It is a very rare gift.”

“Time bending,” suspected Arvid.

Loke nodded.

“If I’m not mistaken, you have this gift yourself,” Arvid said. “What do you need my help for then?”

“You are right,” said Loke. “But even I can’t be in two places at once. I can’t explain it in detail, but I need someone with the same gifts as me. A white mage who is able to bend time.”

“And this plan,” Arvid said suspiciously, “will it have the consequence that people get hurt?”

“Probably not,” Loke said lightly. “At least, that is not planned.”

Arvid wasn’t sure whether she liked that answer. Loke had something about him that she couldn’t express in words, but instinctively made her believe that he could be dangerous indeed. Perhaps this feeling had to do with the gift that Loke had mentioned. When their eyes met, she was able to catch a whiff of his soul. It was just an impression, a feeling, something that she felt but couldn’t see. She was unsure whether it was good.

“How do you know that you can trust me?” she asked finally. “I’m not as clueless as I was half a year ago. I could deceive you.”

“Oh, you will not, however,” said Loke. “Without my help, you’ll be stuck in the shadow world forever. To deceive me would mean to gamble away your only chance.”

Arvid stared at him in disbelief. “So you know a way,” she said. “It’s still possible to travel to the Light World.”

“Yes, it is,” Loke said. “And I’ll help you—once you have helped me.”

“And you’re sure that it will work?” A tingling excitement had taken hold of her at once.

“Of course I am,” Loke replied testily. “I know a lot more about the world transitions than you might think. Three times I was stranded in your world, just like you are in mine right now. I can’t say I was overly impressed.”

“That’s why you speak my language,” realized Arvid.

“Yes,” Loke said, grimacing, “and you almost made sure that I was stuck in that disgustingly bright and far too warm place a fourth time.”

“What, me?” Arvid asked blankly. “What do I have to do with all this?”

“You destroyed my portal,” Loke said. He glared angrily. “With a ball of paper. But I guess you have already paid the price for your brazenness.”

It took a moment before Arvid understood. Just before she came into the Shadow World, she had found something in her pocket and thrown it into the strange flickering that would prove to be a world transition. And that could only mean…

“You were the woman who warned me!”

“Indeed. Fortunately, I managed to get through the transition with you. It would have taken me months, perhaps years, to find and reach a new one in time.”

“The man at the river,” Arvid excitedly continued, “That was you, too!”

“It was,” Loke confirmed coolly. “You should probably thank me.”

“You should probably apologize! You insulted me and purposely frightened me even more.”

“You deserved to be insulted!” Loke flared up. “You were lucky that I was in a good mood, otherwise I might have killed you. I can’t say that I have a lot of patience for small humans who stand in the way.”

Arvid was speechless. His words sounded like a bad joke, but the way he looked at her made her doubt that. “You’re crazy,” she blurted out.

“That’s quite possible. But we deviate from the topic and it’s getting late. I’m here for a reason.” He opened a small leather case on his belt and pulled an envelope out of it, which he handed to Arvid. “There is a being that is called the Oracle of the North. Odin is the only one who is able to consult it, but he only does so in urgent cases, since his body falls into a deep sleep when he does. Nearly two hundred years ago the oracle sent Asgard a warning. It predicted that one day a woman from another world will appear, a woman with a dark soul and the power of a god. The oracle prophesied that this woman will play a decisive role in the conflict between us and the demons. In what way she didn’t say, but Odin is convinced that her actions will trigger a huge disaster.”

Arvid frowned. “Why?”

“There are other prophecies,” said Loke. “Some are known only to Odin. He is headstrong, arrogant and stubborn. If he decides not to divulge anything, nothing and no one can change his mind. Something makes him believe that this woman is our ruin—or at least his.”

“I understand. And then what?”

“The gods are afraid. Especially Odin. Any woman who gets here from another world is a potential threat.”

“What?” Arvid said incredulously. “Does Odin think I’m this woman?”

“He fears it.”

“Nonsense!” Arvid said vigorously. “I’m just a simple woman. I just want to leave this world as soon as possible.”

“Like I said, Odin is very stubborn. He doesn’t want to take any chances, and I can’t convince him. That’s why you were originally sent to Horalf’s farm. They wanted you… let’s say… out of the way. But of course, without putting the gods in a bad light.” Loke snorted. “Odin wastes a ridiculous amount of energy on preserving his and Asgard’s reputation.”

“So he knew… he knew what’s going on on Horalf’s farm?”

“It was known to the Council. The farm has been chosen carefully. Many of Horalf’s servants have disappeared over the years. It was thought that life there would break your will. A precautionary measure, if time should reveal that you are, in fact, the woman of the prophecy.”

Arvid stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief. She thought of the terrible weeks she had to endure on Horalf’s farm, and for a moment she didn’t know whether to be shocked or just angry.

“I… I don’t believe this,” finally burst out of her. “Because of such nonsense… because of a fairytale… something that an oracle once foretold… that’s why I was sent to this farm?” Her heart was pounding. She thought of what Gyda and Hagen had to endure there, and the thought almost made her sick. “If it was up to the Council, I would have had to spend years under the roof of a tyrant and a rapist, and all this because… because of a prophecy?”

“Well, I guess you’ve elegantly solved this problem. Neither the Council nor the two farmers had expected such behavior from you—quite obviously.”

“They crossed the line,” Arvid said harshly. “I may be just a simple woman, but I will not let people pick on me without defending myself!”

“You’re right,” said Loke. “They deserved to die.”

Arvid felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice-cold water over her head. “They… they’re dead?” she asked, horrified.

Loke rolled his eyes. “You honestly think anyone would survive such a large amount of rustnettle? Half of it would have sufficed.”

“My god,” whispered Arvid. “I… I didn’t want that.”