The Ragnarok Trials

Day Four: Pursuit of When Things Explode

Day Four
         Pursuit of When Things Explode
Focus Word: Dream
Word Count: 3065

The elevator ride was a lot longer than I thought it would be. Odin watching me, no doubt, scanning for weaknesses with that lost eye of his. The thought made me laugh. Below me, the Watcher was blind, and above, the one-eyed man saw more than ever. It was the last remaining of his gifts; Christ had hidden from him his charms. His prodigious mind was all his own and, thus, remained. Not many gods could find me when I didn't want to be found. Odin had, and punished me mightily.

We were not friends, though once we had been. There had been a time he called me blood brother, adopted me into the Aesir though I was not one. He had assumed this would make me always benevolent; he'd forgotten that chaos is my very nature. At some point, I would do something unacceptable to him. At some point, I would betray him.

There had been no hard feelings. When I killed Baldur, I mean. It was simply meant as a trick to uncover their hubris. One might not believe that gods are capable of believing too highly of themselves, but it is actually the opposite. Nothing is more pathetic than a god that has been forced to wrestle with his own flaws. How could I pass up that sort of opportunity?

To be completely honest, I didn't even actually do any killing. That was all Hod. I just provided him with the one weapon that could kill Baldur. He had kind of an Achilles thing going on, except his one weakness was mistletoe rather than his heel. See, a certain goddess who shall remain nameless (Frigg), had gone out into the great white winter of our land and exacted a promise from every living thing not to harm their oh-so-wonderful God of Peace. But when she got to mistletoe, which was a newcomer to the world, she decided that it was just too harmless to bother with. And so it did not make the oath.

I, of course, found out about this. How could I not? I was everywhere then, at the height of my power. It was such a moment of thoughtlessness, of the mighty gods thinking themselves above the lowliest of our living denizens, that I could not pass it up. Such lessons cannot be missed, lest they eventually undermine our own strength.

Keep in mind that Baldur had to die eventually. His death was one of the harbingers of Ragnarok, our great End of the World rumble. Gods everywhere would fight to the death and, at the end, Baldur would rise up to lead the survivors into a brave new world of happiness and love. If the myth sounds familiar, that's because Christ knew about it, too. There's nothing unique amongst our kind. Not really. But, anyway, Baldur had to die anyway, I figured we might as well all learn a lesson from it.

To make matters worse, everyone was taking turns throwing spears, swinging axes, and shooting arrows at the kid. Just to see what would happen. And he was just standing there, glowing gold from his head to his toes, laughing as every arrow went wide and every axe turned away at the last minute. Only Hod, the blind god, abstained, sipping at his mead and grinning at what he heard. And so to him I went, offering an arrow of mistletoe, and asking him to shoot.

Let's make that clear. I gave the arrow to a blind guy! I'd really meant for the arrow to pierce Baldur's arm, or something, and remind everyone of the sins of hubris, but I am chaos. I knew there was a chance Hod would make a good shot. I knew Baldur might die. But I wasn't about to stop myself from doing what I did, because that's who I was. Chaos was my very nature; I could no more deny it than Baldur could deny his glowy, peacey thing.

The arrow sung true. And thus begins my long trek to the rock.

If you must know the truth, it wasn't precisely the shooting and the killing that everyone was angry about. Sure, they weren't happy, but even they had to acknowledge that I'd given the bloody thing to a blind guy, and that perhaps Frigg should not have overlooked mistletoe in her own arrogance. No, what really made them angry was when I got myself involved with Baldur's resurrection.

I don't rightly know why I did it. Except that it was the most appealing of all options. Baldur returns, everything goes back to normal, and nothing at all is learned. And no fun is had. Keep Baldur dead and everyone realizes the repercussions of their actions, not to mention I get to play dress up and spit in Odin's face. That's always fun. There was also the ticking in the back of my head, telling me that Ragnarok approached, and Baldur needed to stay dead. And so, when everyone showed their sorrow, weeping and begging for Baldur's return (the condition my daughter, Hel, had set in order to release him from her realm), I cackled and denied them, hidden in the shape of an old woman.

And Baldur stayed dead.

When I ran, they found me. And they chained me to a rock. The rest is history. As you know, I remained there for centuries, waiting for the end of the world and my release. Then the Old Gods fell and the Angels came to offer me a job.

In the end, it worked out pretty fabulously for me. Okay, so it's a little bit difficult being a chaos deity representing law and order, but I won't be doing it forever, and until then, I get to exact some wonderfully poetic vengeance upon those who left me to rot because they couldn't deal with their own flaws being shoved in their faces. I am not a bad guy, as so many think. I am simply everything...and nothing. I am chaos. And a lot of people just could not accept that as part of accepting me.

Odin was the first, I thought, who truly understood me. But then, I suppose that understanding only stretched as far as I was a beneficial commodity. I should have known, of course. I should have realized that Odin's understanding, his acceptance of me, would only last until I ceased giving him exactly what he wanted. Odin is a far crueler man than I.

Together, we watched the world burn once. And together we laughed, because he is the gallows and I am chaos. We feed on it, both of us, and it makes us stronger.

It is because of this that we hate each other so much now. Because both of us know the other, and both of us recognize that his is the greater betrayal. And he cannot stand that this puts him in my debt. I am owed, and he refuses to pay up to the likes of me.

He never did learn that lesson.

Finally, the door opened and I sauntered out, all of my bravado at the fore. The Angels had told me to be pleasant, but I wasn't about to act in any manner of pleasantness around the Allfather. I missed my jacket again. It added a certain noir detective mystery, and I missed the panache it lent to my relatively plain fashion choices.

Plus, I could hide a weapon in it if I so chose. And being in this building really made me so choose.

The entire floor was one, long room, with thatched ceilings and fires burning in every alcove. A long table ran the length, dark wood covered with the marks of the axes that shaped it. It was not comfortable. Then again, I suppose it wasn't meant to be. Odin is a harsh god, and prefers his surroundings as harsh as he. I wondered more at how they'd managed to pull this off. They must have all drained themselves dry for weeks to so change the interior of this building. Why they'd left the elevator, I wasn't sure, but I thought it might have something to do with having decided stairs were far too much of a nuisance.

At the far length of the room, sitting in the biggest and grandest of all the chairs, was the Allfather himself. As I watched, he pulled out a bag of something I could not quite see, and laid it in the table. He knew I was there, all right. Odin liked to make people wait, just to see what they would do. "Go on," I announced into the room. "I would never dream of interrupting you, so there's no need to play the waiting game, Odin. Talk and do whatever it is you're going to do in your own time."

Odin did not reply, but simply crushed a bit of whatever was in the bag, rolled it up in a piece of paper, and dipped the tip into the nearest fire. Only when he'd taken a few puffs did he smile and extend his hand. "Loki Lie-smith, you are looking splendid these days. Do come join me."

The Allfather was not a handsome man. Even less so than I, and that is saying something. He is a big man, with big bones and even bigger muscles, with an equally big face. There is not an inch of him that is free from scarring; Odin has fought many battles in his time, and prefers to remind everyone that he emerged victorious from all of them. Reddish hair, the color of old blood, fell in wild tangles to his shoulders, as messy and as scarred as the rest of him. The worst, though, was his eye. Odin didn't believe in covering it, or in even replacing it with a glass replication. He liked making people stare into the ragged ruin of his own sacrifice.

Did I mention Odin is a bit of a bastard?

He'd taken to wearing expensive suits of late, tailored to his body by the brownies that had followed us to God Town. They were exempt from Christ's decree, being naturally able to hide and not bound to human belief for existence, but some had decided that the Old God communities were the perfect place to make a living. Odin was known for employing quite a few.

He did look great in the suit. Perhaps I should get in contact with the brownies. Their loyalties have more to do with money than anything else, and coin was coin. And I would look amazing in something like that. Just saying.

"You appear to be doing well, Allfather," I replied, slinking my way up the table and taking the seat directly to his left. I knew it was Frigg's seat, but some perversity from my old days rose up within me, and I wanted nothing more than to remind Odin of just what he'd done to me. "Staying just enough under the radar that my employers have, as yet, had no reason to send me after you. Well done."

Odin smiled again, big yellowing teeth gracing us with their hideous presence. I managed to keep from recoiling. It was another of his little tricks, meant to set someone on edge. He was pulling out all the stops with me. Too bad he didn't know a damn thing about night terrors, of having your entire life ripped out from under you. I still woke at 5am in a cold sweat, desperate to prove to myself that I wasn't still in that cave, that the snake was not dripping liquid fire onto me, that my body was not burning even as it struggled to heal itself, to change itself enough to get away from the pain. Nothing he could do now could ever compare to that. And so I wasn't scared. Not even a little. "What are you doing here, Loki? Surely you know your brethren are calling for your blood."

I shrugged. "They're usually doing that. I'm here to see Baldur, Allfather. The Angels want me to investigate his murder."

For a moment, Odin simply stared, his one dark eye boring into me. Then he burst out laughing, great guffaws that shook his entire body and echoed up and down the length of his hall. "That is rich, Loki. Sending the murderer to investigate the murder. Your Angels are none too bright, are they?"

"Michael believes I am as guilty as you do. He thinks I am in league with the Old Gods to bring about Ragnarok and replace Christ with one of our own. He also believes we are stupid, as such a thing isn't even possible. Of course, we already know that. And Michael doesn't seem to realize how little I like you people. Also, I never commit the same crime twice." I leaned back into the chair, weaving my fingers together across my chest. "I am no more guilty of Baldur's death this time than I was last time. It 'twas sheer chance that Hod's arrow struck."

The sound of Odin's hand slamming against the table reverberated through the entire room, a loud crack that actually hurt. "You gave him the arrow, Loki! You set it all up and stood back! You took from me my son and then denied his return! And now...now that I finally got him back, you took him again!" Odin leaned forward in his chair, face inches from my own, spittle flying in all directions but my own. I have not lost everything, you know.

"Exactly that someone wants you to believe, Allfather." I remained calm. It was easy to remain calm when someone else was screaming at you. Chaos is as much a balance, as anything. "Someone wants you all to believe that I have killed Baldur. But I have done no such thing. And while you all scream at me, demanding my blood, the real killer is somewhere on the streets of God Town, gloating at how much smarter he is than all of you. All of us."

"Oh, I know you are laughing at us, Lie-smith. You always laughed at us. Even when we made you one of us, you laughed..." Odin leaned back, sorrow suddenly weighing him down, his dark eye dulling.

I shook my head. "I was never happier than when you called me brother. I would be your brother still if you had simply accepted me for who I was, Odin. And if you would just give me a chance now, I will find out who killed your son. And I will bring him--or her--to justice. Before this entire town explodes from tension. If you would just let me see the body, I can start investigating. I can find your killer."

"I believe I stare at him now, Loki."

I sighed. "When was he killed?"

Odin's eye sharpened. "Last night."

"I couldn't have done it. I was home the entire time. Just finished the Chimera case--turns out it was an inside job all along--and was collapsed on my bed because I ended up with this..." I pulled up the sleeve on my shirt to reveal where the beast had bitten me. "This wound is twelve hours old, as you can clearly see. Unless there was Old God blood covering the scene..."

Odin laughed. "Oh, you couldn't have done it! Except that the scene was covered in blood. A little bit of yours dripping into the puddle that was Baldur's would make no difference, which you rightly know."

"So Baldur was shot?"

Odin shook his head. "You are such an accomplished liar, Loki, I almost believe that you had nothing to do with this. You seem so innocent, far more than you ever did before. But I know it for a lie. Baldur was sliced open with a sword. The protection we sought for him no longer mattered, no longer strong enough to overcome the Christ's command. But you are a cunning liar, Loki. I had forgotten."

I stood suddenly. "You've still got that eye of yours, Odin. Stare at me. Scrape me clean. I know that's the one thing the Christ left to you, because he could not take it away. Search me. Scour me. I have not murdered your son. And I need to find out who did before those bloody bastards I call employers throw me back into my chains. Do you really think that I would endanger myself? You know me, Odin. I have never put myself in direct danger; I have never done something by my own hand that I knew would lead to my detriment. If I killed your son, Allfather, I did it knowing I would be thrown back into that cave. I have just gotten my freedom back. I do not plan on going back. Now show me the body so I can find out who did it, or I will force you to."

Odin was shorter than I, but not by much. And he could probably tear me to pieces with his hands if he so chose. But I was not afraid of him. I was never afraid of him. "You will do no such thing."

"Won't I, Allfather? How much power did the Angels give to me in exchange for working for them? How many skills, how much help? How much of myself yet remains to me that you are not aware of? Do you want to test it, Odin? How much of your power do you have tied up in this building of yours? How much of it would you have to destroy just to stop me? Come on, Odin. Tell me!"

Laughter was not the response I expected. "Oh, Loki, you have changed much, but not that much. Fine, I will show you the body. And I will show you the scene. But know this, Lie-smith. Though I believe that you did not wield the weapon, I do not believe you are innocent. After all, you did not wield the mistletoe, and yet my son died by your hand nonetheless. Let us go. But do not for a minute believe that I am not watching. Eventually, you will screw up, and I will be there to collect on my rightful debt. And when that happens, chains will be the last thing you have to worry about."