Fragments of your Soul (The Mirror Worlds Book 1) (43 page)

“Do you fear him?” said Arvid.

“If I fear Loke?” asked Byleist in surprise, then he laughed. “No. He’s my brother. I have a special place in the eye of his storm.”

They climbed several flights of stairs and reached a part of the fortress which Arvid had never seen before. The walls were no longer raw and coarse stone, but smoothly sculpted and sometimes painted with colored patterns. Huge woven carpets and heavy curtains hung on the walls; over the doors large, semi-circular paintings in carved wooden frames could be seen. They passed numerous niches with overstuffed chairs and polished stone tables and Arvid repeatedly discovered small rippling wall fountains.

Finally they reached a two-wing door, guarded by two armed giants. Behind it a dark, domed hall with a mirror-like floor and a huge fountain received them. Above the water hung a ring of turquoise star lamps.

“Everything beyond this point is part of the royal family’s quarters,” said Byleist. “Your chambers are over there,” he pointed to one of five black doors, “but I wanted to show you something else first.”

He led Arvid through a door on the opposite side, which led into a long, straight corridor lit by an endless succession of star lamps. There were no doors, but the walls were tightly covered with colored hangings. At first glance they looked like ordinary wall carpets with patterns and coats of arms, as Arvid had often seen them in the fortress, but after a few steps she stopped in surprise.

The motifs were so detailed and complex, like paintings. None of the images looked like the other. She looked at Byleist questioningly.

“Yes, it is these pictures I wanted to show you,” he said. “Do you like them?”

Arvid nodded and stepped up close to a picture which showed a forest, ending at steep cliffs. It was embroidered, composed of thousands of stitches and colored threads.

“Yes,” she said in amazement. “Do they tell a story?”

“Every picture its own,” said Byleist, “although I know close to none of them. Loke made them.”

Arvid’s eyes widened in amazement. She took a step back in order to better see the huge number of pictures. “Loke made… all these pictures?” she asked in disbelief.

“I’ve never counted them,” confessed Byleist. “But yes… He is very productive.”

Arvid slowly walked along the wall, looking at the many detailed pieces. She saw mountains, forests, hills, but also desolate landscapes, ice and snow. She saw bridges and houses, cities along rivers and some behind thick walls, wide sky, but also dark rooms, caves and dens.

At one point Arvid stopped. On the wall in front of her hung four pictures, which all showed the same motif, but in different compositions. “This city he has pictured several times,” she said thoughtfully.

Byleist joined her. “It’s a city that no longer exists today—I can’t even remember its name. It lay down at the White River, near the border, before it all began to thaw.”

“What happened to it?”

“I don’t know exactly,” admitted Byleist. “Maybe it was torn down, maybe just changed. Anyway, today humans live there. The town no longer belongs to the realm of giants.”

“So it was taken during the war.”

“No. The area fell to the humans because of a contract between Asgard and the then still-united Jökutnjamargr. It was a contract Loke had negotiated, but unfortunately it proved to be a fatal error.”

“The Treaty of the White River,” Arvid suddenly realized, looking at Byleist in surprise. “Loke never mentioned that he had signed it.”

“Well, he did not,” said Byleist, “but our father did. However, he did so because of Loke’s specific recommendation. Father trusted him. After all the losses his kingdom had suffered after the creation of Asgard, he was not ready to take any further risk. The treaty meant peace, finally. It meant that Jökutnjamargr lost a small area in the south, but the border was defined. Asgard committed to no longer conquering more of our land by force. I suppose you know what happened next.”

“I do.”

For a while they were silent and looked at the picture in front of them, then Arvid asked, “Do you know more stories that are shown here?”

“Unfortunately, only one or two,” Byleist said, “but I’ll have to tell them another time. There is still a lot of work waiting for me. I wanted to show you this place because the pictures here show tiny fragments of Loke’s life. Maybe you can learn more from them than he will ever reveal himself.”

“Thank you, Byleist,” Arvid said, “this really means a lot to me.” She hesitated, then added, “I… like your brother very much.”

“I know. And I admire you for it.”

Arvid looked at the ground. “I know I mean nothing to him, but… I still hope that I can help him make up for his mistake.”

Byleist crouched down and put his big hand on Arvid’s. “I admit I don’t know what’s going on inside Loke,” he said seriously, “but you should know that your presence doesn’t leave him untouched. He is considerate of you, and trust me… for Loke, that really is something.”

Arvid tried to smile. “Then I’ll try to be grateful.”

Byleist brought her to the entrance of Loke’s quarters. Allegedly Loke didn’t like it when others entered his chambers, and his brother respected that. He promised to send a healer who would look after Arvid’s arm, then he took his leave.

Arvid was uneasy when she finally entered. She came into a relatively small, circular room, which contained nothing but a simple stone table with a number of heavy wooden chairs. Behind it followed a small passage with a wall fountain, which led to another door. As Arvid stepped into the room behind it, she paused, startled. The huge, dome-shaped cave reminded her so much of Loke’s home in Jördendheim’s mountains that she was seized by a strange, very intense feeling. It seemed to her as if she had returned home after a long journey.

There were the same fur covered niches in the walls, huge bookshelves and massive, carved chests. Water was dripping down in a white stone bowl from a huge cluster of star lamps on the ceiling. Only on the floor were colorful patterned rugs instead of skins.

Arvid walked around. She found something that looked like a library, a room with a huge bed and finally a round room that would be something like a study. There was a huge table and shelves crammed with paper, rolled parchment, pens, bottles of ink, candles, sealing wax, books and envelopes, stamps, maps, heavy leather wallets and hundreds of other things. On the other side of the room, however, stood a large chest, right next to a lush cushioned seat niche and a smaller table, where a mess of fabric and sewing tools lay.

Suddenly Arvid thought she heard a voice and looked up. Had someone just called her name? When she came back into the main cave, she saw Loke’s brother Helblindi standing at the door.

“Here you are,” he said. “Byleist sends me to change your bandage.”

“Oh,” Arvid said, then smiled and walked toward him. “I thought he would send a healer.”

“Well, he did.”

“You are a healer?” said Arvid, surprised.

“Yes indeed. My brother obviously doesn’t speak of me very often—well, that’s not surprising.”

“He’s generally not very talkative. He never talks about himself and his family.”

“Loke and I don’t get along too well. There is a reason.”

Arvid frowned but said nothing.

They reached the round room, where Helblindi had placed a bowl of brownish liquid and fresh bandages on the table. Arvid watched as Helblindi began to remove the still-damp bandage from her arm. When he removed the last layer, she quickly looked away, though. She was not particularly keen on the sight of her cut skin.

“In about a week it won’t look that bad anymore,” said Helblindi, who had noticed her reaction. “The wound has to be cleaned twice a day until then.”

Arvid gritted her teeth as Helblindi washed her arm with the brown liquid. The cuts began to burn violently again. He, too, covered the skin with smooth, dark red leaves, before he applied a fresh bandage.

“Is it normal that it still burns so fiercely?” said Arvid. “Shouldn’t the liquid make it better?”

Helblindi shook his head. “On the contrary,” he replied. “It is obtained from a plant containing a corrosive secretion. The wound isn’t allowed to heal.”

“I beg your pardon? Why not?”

“Otherwise there hardly would be any scars,” said Helblindi. “It is important that the soul gem dust is trapped inside scar tissue. Cleanly healed skin would repel the dust over time. But don’t worry, the juice is only applied the first few days. Then you will soon feel no more pain.”

Arvid moaned softly at the thought of having to endure this procedure for another week. At the same time it was clear that there was no way around it. She would simply have to pull herself together.

Helblindi, who had been watching her, smiled. “I understand your feelings,” he said, while he neatly knotted the last part of the bandage. “It’s not particularly pleasant, but then, you only have to endure this once in your life.”

“You’re married too,” Arvid suddenly remembered. “Perhaps I could… take a look at your scar?”

Helblindi put the towels aside and pulled up his left sleeve. “There you go,” he said, while he pensively looked at his own arm. “Our band was closed forty-two years ago.”

The gray skin on his arm showed a pattern of thin, silver-white lines. As Arvid leaned forward, she saw that they shone ever so slightly in the dim light. They seemed to protrude a little and formed a series of symbols that Arvid couldn’t identify. She had to admit that the cleanly healed scar was quite pretty to look at.

“If you need help or Loke should scare you, you may always come to me,” Helblindi said suddenly.

Arvid looked up in surprise. “Why do you say that?” she asked. “He doesn’t scare me.”

“Maybe not yet,” he said. “But Loke is… difficult. You should be on the alert, if I may put it that way. Better keep some distance.”

“Thanks for your advice. But I think I can take care of myself.”

Helblindi stole a glance at the door and continued more quietly, “Still. They say that Loke hated his first wife. He treated her very badly; they were constantly involved in violent disputes. After her death some very persistent rumors stated Loke was responsible for her death.”

“You mean that he killed her?” said Arvid. “That’s absurd.”

“You think so?” Helblindi looked at her, unmoved.

“Yes, I think so,” Arvid said indignantly. “Loke is different, you’re right. He has faults and weaknesses, but he would never murder his wife.”

“I don’t think it’s unthinkable. I know he needs you, but… sometimes he’s not quite himself. I wouldn’t rely on him being able to control his… urges.”

Arvid stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and anger. “How can you say such a thing? He’s your brother!”

For a moment, Helblindi looked at her silently, then he smiled. “Forgive me,” he said then. “You are right. You are his wife, and it was inappropriate to say that.”

“Yes, it was!” Arvid rose vigorously from her chair. “I thank you for your help with my bandage, Helblindi. Perhaps you better go now.”

Helblindi stood up. “I will,” he said, stone-faced, “but remember my words. It won’t get easy for you. As Loke’s wife your loyalty will be put to the test—a very hard test.”

He nodded at her briefly and left.

The Month of Copiousness

The next days were monotonous. Arvid saw Loke very rarely and then only from afar. Once she met him in the corridor with two dwarves, which he introduced to her, whose names Arvid immediately forgot again, though. He stroked her hair, as if she were a small child, but fended off all her attempts to talk to him.

Helblindi kept looking after her wounds, but he no longer tried to start a conversation with her. Arvid usually ate breakfast alone and spent her days with walks and reading, which soon became very boring and made her sink into gloomy thoughts. More and more she started to wonder whether their plan would work, or if the other countries simply would let Isvirndjellen down. If that happened, then what? What if one day Asgard’s army was at the gates of the fortress, demanding her extradition? The more she thought about it, the more a nagging fear nested in her, and it seemed to grow with each passing day.

Dinner was usually eaten together in the dining room, but not even here did Loke show up. The mood was tense during meals, which was mainly caused by Naal, who literally looked daggers at Arvid. Arvid returned them coldly. Loke’s mother woke defiance and a dark anger in her. She couldn’t and wouldn’t bow to her.

It had been two weeks when Arvid was awakened in the middle of the night. When she turned around, she saw Loke at some distance beside her. His eyes were closed, but he didn’t look as if he was sleeping. Probably he had only just lain down to sleep.

“Loke?” she asked quietly.

It took a moment, then he nodded almost imperceptibly, without opening his eyes. “Yes,” he murmured.

Arvid turned entirely to him and moved a bit closer. “Can I talk to you?”

“The timing is highly inappropriate.”

“That may be because there never is any other time. This is the first time in days I’ve caught sight of you and you haven’t run off.”

“What are a few days?”

“Loke!”

“What is it?” he asked angrily, and opened his eyes.

“Where have you been?” asked Arvid. “Not even your brothers knew what you were doing. Byleist said that you were working on some intricate plans. Did anything happen we don’t know about?”

“Everywhere things happen all the time,” Loke growled roughly. “Where I am and what I do is none of your business.”

“If it has something to do with Asgard wanting to get their hands on me, then it is my business,” Arvid disagreed sharply. “Do you have any idea how concerned I am all the time?”

“Is it my fault that you’re worried? There is not the slightest reason to be.”

“Oh, there isn’t? And what if your plan doesn’t work out? What if Asgard simply doesn’t care that they’ll provoke a war? What if the other parts of the Wastes refuse to help? Perhaps Asgard will intimidate them.”

“Don’t talk about things you’re clueless about!” Loke barked at her, his eyes flashing with anger. “I know Odin better than anyone else! I know damn well what he will and won’t do!”

“Oh yes, but of course!” Arvid shouted derisively. “You know him so damn well you made a contract with him that cost your father one third of his kingdom! Well done, I guess you exceeded yourself there!”

Arvid regretted her words as soon as she uttered them, but it was already too late. She only had to look in Loke’s eyes to know that it was the worst thing she could have said. Arvid knew that Odin’s betrayal had not been Loke’s fault. Her aggressions were merely an expression of fear, but that didn’t make it any better.

“Shut your mouth!” thundered Loke, but in his eyes was a pain that went so deep, it shocked Arvid more than his anger. She looked in his eyes and saw such despair and such suffering, her anger was swept away at once.

“Loke, I… I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I didn’t mean to…”

“Shut up,” Loke gasped again. It sounded almost like a sob, and his eyes were suddenly filled with tears. Arvid looked at him, petrified with shock, and didn’t know what to do or say.

For a while Arvid struggled with herself, then she did what her heart told her to. She moved close to Loke and put her arms around him. A moment later, he hugged her back and pulled her close. Arvid gently nuzzled her cheek against his and felt cold tears on her skin.

For a long time they just lay there and clung to each other. Arvid could feel Loke’s cold breath and his chest, which slowly rose and fell. His scent was so familiar. Arvid just wanted him to know that he was not alone, that he didn’t have to endure this pain alone, even if she didn’t know where all this suffering suddenly came from. Yet eventually, she was so cold her lips began to tremble. Soon after Loke released her and gently pushed her away.

“You’re cold,” he said quietly, but Arvid shook her head and took his hand.

“I don’t care,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “Loke… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know… that I could.”

“You’ve just thrown a grain of salt,” he whispered. “The wound it landed in was caused by others.”

“Who?” said Arvid. “What else happened, Loke?”

“A lot has happened in my life, Arvid,” he said. He reached for the fur blanket behind her and pulled it over her shivering body. “You’re too young to understand that, too innocent. My heart is tough and scarred. It carries the remains of thousands of old wounds that cover it like a hard shell of armor. Only one of them is still bleeding. I don’t know if it will ever heal.”

Arvid pulled the blanket tighter around her but didn’t let go of Loke’s hand. “And it has to do with the Treaty of the White River?” she asked.

“Yes,” Loke said. “I have paid a high price for this contract—too high a price. Maybe that was the reason why I trusted Odin, even though I knew how dark his soul is, how much he resembles me.”

“What was… the price?” asked Arvid.

Loke didn’t answer immediately. Arvid could see how he wrestled with himself. “My youngest son,” he said then. “He was the payment Odin demanded; otherwise he would never have signed the contract.”

Arvid froze. “You mean Odin killed your son…?”

“No, he lives,” Loke said quietly, “but he could just as well have killed him. He is not a free being more.” Loke gently stroked Arvid’s hair. “He was a shapeshifter like me. I was the one who raped his mind and forced him into a new form, a form which I knew he would never be able to leave again—the shape of a horse. Odin’s horse.”

“My god,” whispered Arvid, appalled, and squeezed Loke’s hand harder. “Was the contract really worth this?”

“I was desperate,” said Loke, now more composed. “My people were dying. The gods, who had previously waged war against each other, suddenly stood united against us. The giants were scattered at the time. They had no way of defending themselves. Without the treaty… Asgard’s army would have taken everything from us. Thousands would have died. My son… was only one.” Loke took a deep breath. “I didn’t make this decision as a mother, but as Isvirndjellen’s heir. I never, ever want to have to make such a decision again.”

The thought was so terrible that it caused Arvid almost physical pain. “That’s why you abdicated the throne,” she whispered.

“It was one of the reasons,” said Loke. “It wasn’t enough for Odin to blackmail me with the lives of my people and to take my son. He also betrayed me and abused the contract I’d had to buy with my own blood. Since that day, I seek revenge. I will find no rest until Odin has died by my hand or the stolen land once again belongs to the giants. But Odin’s power is superior to mine. I knew I would never be able to destroy him as an enemy. So I chose a different path.”

“You became his friend.”

“Yes,” Loke said. “Over the decades his distrust toward me subsided. Odin has the gift to take possession of animals, to control them with his mind. Only then is it possible for him to reach the Oracle of the North unscathed. I thought that one day I could stab him while he was travelling there and his human body was lying there helplessly. But that day never came. He is always surrounded by a large number of gods. Instead, I found a new task: I undermined Odin’s efforts to present the gods of Asgard as pure, generous and unfailing beings. I wanted to make Odin’s life as difficult as possible while I waited for a new opportunity.”

“It will come,” Arvid said softly. “You will win the land back, Loke. All you lack is a little sunlight.”

Loke looked at her attentively, then nodded. He withdrew his hand and put the fur blanket tightly around her arm and shoulders. “Go to sleep,” he said, “and don’t worry. Borkh’s answer arrived a few hours ago. It was surprisingly positive. Apparently my father’s efforts bear fruit.”

Although Arvid was upset, she felt her heart getting lighter. She knew Utstern was well disposed to them. They didn’t have to worry about their response, even though it had not yet arrived.

“What I’ve just told you was solely intended for you,” Loke said. “No one needs to know, not even my family.”

“They don’t know?” Arvid asked, stunned.

“No,” Loke replied flatly, and stared up at the ceiling. “They don’t know what exactly happened. I have to keep up appearances; otherwise all I have been fighting for would be lost. The gods of Asgard know me. I’m chaos, I’m change, but I have their trust. There have been conflicts worse than the present. It’s in my nature to provoke them—and yet I have never ceased to be one of them.”

Loke turned back to Arvid. “You should never have learned of this, but it has happened. You caught me in moment of weakness.”

“What do you want to do? Kill me?”

“I can’t. It would kill me, too.”

“Otherwise you’d do it?”

Loke said nothing. Arvid’s words had not been meant seriously, but as she looked into his eyes, she was suddenly overcome with fear. He had become so familiar that she often failed to perceive the darkness inside him. Far too easily she forgot how dangerous the creature in front of her was, how unpredictable, how double-minded.

“I detest having to trust others,” Loke said finally, without answering her question. Again he gently stroked her hair. “You should sleep now.”

Arvid nodded and looked at Loke silently. How much she wanted to touch him now, caress his cheek, show him her affection somehow, but she couldn’t. Instead, she curled up in the corner of the bed and unsuccessfully tried to fall asleep. Again and again she had to think about all the things Loke had told her. The more she pondered, the more terrible the things Odin had done seemed. Imagining how it must have been for Loke to enslave his own son almost tore her heart apart. He had lost him forever, yet he had always been there, right in front of him, whenever he had headed out with Odin. It had not simply been a horse, but his son. Every look in his eyes would have reminded Loke of what he had done to him.

The next morning Arvid was asked to the council chamber. When she entered, she suddenly found herself facing Naal.

“Good morning, Arvid,” she said, not overly friendly, but not as hostile as usual. “As you can see, I was about to leave. If you’re hungry—Hemett has just served breakfast.” She gestured over to the table, then she turned around and left the room.

Arvid looked after her in surprise, then turned to the big table where Loke, his brothers Byleist and Helblindi, Katta, Ghelm, the scribbler, and two unknown dwarves were sitting.

“What did I do to deserve a greeting?” Arvid mumbled to herself.

Byleist laughed and rose from his seat while Helblindi softly chuckled. Loke’s face showed no emotion.

“Arvid, may I introduce you to our visitors?” Byleist said, pointing to the two dwarves, who also stood up and bowed their heads. “These are Simsik Son Bei, eldest son of Himon Son Bei, and Rig Son Somorat, son of Baal. They will be our guests for a few days.”

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance,” Arvid said with a slight bow. “I hope you had a good trip.”

“The honor is all mine, Your Highness,” replied Rig, a stocky dwarf with a pointed nose and jet-black goatee.

“And mine,” Simsik added. “The news of your wedding was a pleasant surprise for my family. I immediately set out to personally deliver my congratulations to you and your husband.”

“Thank you,” Arvid said.

“The warmest congratulations also from me and my family,” Rig said. “I would have arrived yesterday, but spontaneously decided to travel with my old friend Simsik. He is not used to the snowy areas.”

“In fact, I just wanted to show Simsik the gardens,” Helblindi now said. “I think for the time being everything about the contract was discussed?”

Byleist and Ghelm nodded in agreement.

While Helblindi and Simsik left the hall and Ghelm began to collect his papers, Hemett poured Rig more beer. The dwarf looked very pleased. His clothes indicated that he came from a wealthy family. Like almost all dwarves Arvid had seen, he was wearing heavy jewelry and several glittering rings on his fingers. His coat was lined with snow-white fur and his hat was emblazoned by a large buckle, studded with sparkling stones.

“Arvid,” said Loke and waved her to approach.

“Yes?” She walked over to him, and to her surprise, he pulled her close and fleetingly kissed her on the cheek. Then he gently rested his head against hers and whispered in her ear, “Give the dwarf what he has come here for. Just play along.”

For a moment Arvid considered questioning the statement, but then she nodded so gently only Loke could feel it. She didn’t know what all this was about and why the dwarves were here, but she was sure that they had not only come here to congratulate them. She had no choice but to wait and improvise.

She sat down at the table, took a piece of dry bread and tried to follow the conversation between Katta and Rig that revolved around the beer. Obviously, it was brewed here in Sölunnir, but most of the ingredients came from areas in the dwarven realm. Rig never missed an opportunity to mention the wealth and influence of his family, while Katta and Byleist nodded attentively and repeatedly expressed their admiration for his achievements. Katta buttered Rig up so much, it almost seemed ridiculous, and Arvid began to wonder what she was doing here. Only Loke just sat there, leaning back in his chair and watching the scene in silence.