Fragments of your Soul (The Mirror Worlds Book 1) (19 page)

“Oh, please,” Loke said scornfully. “They were ordinary people, the worst kind. Measly worms that take delight in the misery of the even weaker, believing they have power. Putting them away was one of the few things that you have done right.”

Arvid had no words. She had placed her hand over her mouth and looked incredulously at Loke, who seemed unimpressed and was obviously serious about what he just said. Her heart felt like it was squeezed by an iron fist. Yes, she had been angry, demoralized, exhausted, tired and deeply shocked about what Egil had been doing to Gyda. She had wished him many things, but not death.

“You can’t be serious,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “They were people, not insects. I am also a human being!”

Loke sighed deeply. “I see you still have this exaggerated respect for human life, which is so celebrated in your world. You must learn to accept that you stand above them.”

“I’m not above them!” shouted Arvid. She wanted to get up, but Loke quickly grabbed her wrist.

“Sit down and calm down,” he said sharply, looking at her intently. “We don’t have time for this nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” cried Arvid and felt tears welling up in her eyes. “I killed them!”

“My goodness, so what?” he hissed. “These men have been dead for months. Shedding tears won’t help them, and it most definitely won’t help us!”

Arvid looked at Loke, stunned. In his eyes there was something dark, icy, something that might have scared her, had it not been so familiar the same time. She didn’t know what to think or feel. She was overwhelmed by the horrible idea that she had wiped out two lives, deliberately and in full awareness. The fact that she had not known about it until now didn’t make it any better, even if Loke tried to tell her that she had had the right to kill these men.

“How about this,” Loke went on, “you pull yourself together and listen to what I have to say. After that you can get hysterical, run around and shed pointless tears as long as you want. That sounds fair, right?”

Arvid frantically forced herself to breathe deeply. A numbing helplessness spread inside her, but she was so upset and confused that she didn’t utter a word. Just what had she gotten into? Loke was completely out of his mind.

“The incident wasn’t your fault,” Loke said. He sounded almost soothing. “Asgard’s Council sent you to this place, quite deliberately. They thought it would break you, but you were stronger. One should never feel guilty for his own strength—never.”

“The Council,” Arvid said in a trembling voice. “This cursed Council!” She clenched her fingers around the envelope in her hand, trying to continue to breathe calmly.

“I too am a member of the Council,” Loke said, “but my vote alone doesn’t count much. It’s still Odin who has the final word. It is fear that drives him. He believes in this prophecy.”

Arvid didn’t know what to say to that. She felt the rough paper in her hand, and for the first time in a long while this comforting and immensely alluring feeling of darkness inside her. It concealed the pain and the horror about what she had just learned, leaving an almost soothing cold and emptiness.

“What is in this envelope?” she said flatly.

“A map,” Loke said.

Arvid opened the envelope with cold, trembling hands and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.

“Since our meeting in the town hall, I’ve been trying to convince the Council that there’s no way you’re the woman of the prophecy,” Loke continued. “Unfortunately, with little success. Noldir has raised the assumption you could have the gift of time bending. Master Coth has also reported that your magical skills don’t develop normally. All of this matches the prophecy of the oracle.”

“So Odin really thinks I am that woman.” Arvid had unfolded the paper and looked blankly at the hand-drawn map, without perceiving what was on it. “And what will happen now?”

“I don’t know yet,” Loke said. “Odin has not yet reached a decision. I was hoping that he would wait and see, but the last few weeks he’s seemed unsettled. I suspect that he will consult the oracle again to obtain clarification.”

“About what?”

“Your identity. But the oracle never makes clearly understandable statements. I know Odin. It’s not his way to make quick decisions, so it will probably take months before he acts. Nevertheless, I don’t wish to risk too much.”

He pointed to a spot on the map. “This shows our current position,” he said, then drew a line up to another point. “This is Asgard, just to the north. And over here,” he tapped his finger on an empty spot to the right of it, “is my house. I need you to remember the location. I have no interest in anyone knowing my whereabouts.”

Arvid nodded weakly. “Why do you show it to me?”

“So that you can find me in case of an emergency,” Loke said. He took the envelope and the map from her fingers. “In an emergency,” he repeated stressed. “By that I mean, in case of an unexpected event, if your life should be in danger.” He put the map back in the envelope, handed it to Arvid and rose. “I’ll come back when the time is right,” he said, holding out his hand. “Until then, you stay here and learn as much about this world as you can. My plan is still as immature as your powers.”

Arvid grabbed his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “Got it,” she said flatly.

On the way back Arvid was so cold that she couldn’t prevent her teeth from chattering. She walked shakily and stiffly beside Loke, who was apparently left untouched by the cold, and racked her brain about everything that he had told her. When they finally arrived back at the main entrance and Loke paused, Arvid felt as if she were waking from a long, dark dream.

“I should warn you,” Loke said.

As Arvid looked up at him, she winced. He had changed his appearance and again looked the same as when they first met in the town hall.

“People know me in this form,” he continued. “Better stay away from me when we’re back in the hall.”

Already in the corridor the bystander’s glances followed them, but after the grueling events of the last few hours Arvid felt as if she was wrapped in cotton wool. It was hot and stuffy in the hall, the air filled with smoke and the smell of beer and cold food. There was a wild tangle of voices, penetrated by music that was quieter than a few hours earlier.

At first no one seemed to notice them as they entered the hall, but that changed with every step. Heads turned to Loke, talk abruptly fell silent, people nudged each other with their elbows and whispered things. When they were at the height of the dance floor, Borgarr also discovered Loke. His face turned into a mask of pure anger.

“Excuse me,” sighed Loke.

Arvid automatically slowed her steps and looked after Loke, who was heading at the table at the end of the hall. Borgarr had jumped up from his chair. The other gods and masters turned around, some surprised, others angry.

Arvid forced herself to look away. At a table in the back, she discovered Gerdur, who was watching her in worry. Opposite him sat Nod. He stared at her blankly as she approached. Neither said a word as Arvid poured a cup of water, emptied it in one gulp, and immediately went over to fill it again. She sat close enough to the table of honor to vaguely overhear what was going on. From the bits she could understand, she snapped up that Loke’s long absence was seen as an insult. He seemed little impressed by the indignant voices and angrily flashing eyes though.

“If you don’t believe me that I was here the whole time, that’s quite frankly your own problem,” she heard him say. Borgarr replied in a low voice, so that Arvid couldn’t understand the words, but his bald head was almost as red as his beard.

“What business do you have with Loke?” Gerdur asked suddenly, tearing Arvid from her observations.

“Business?” Arvid asked, frowning. “We were just talking.”

Gerdur looked at her calmly, but his whole posture was stiff and resistant. “Just like that? About what?”

Arvid looked at Nod, who was looking at them directly but still showed no emotion. “All kinds of things,” she replied. “I think that’s my own affair.”

“I guess it is,” he said. “Just what would Loke, a god with no hint of respect for people without any extraordinary talents, discuss with a simple student like you?”

His open distrust made Arvid angry, but she forced herself to reply calmly. “I don’t know,” she said, “but that’s just the way it is. Is this a problem for you?”

“Do you have any idea who Loke is?” Gerdur asked insistently.

“Of course I know who he is!”

Gerdur sighed deeply and nervously ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Arvid, but I don’t think you know,” he said. “You might believe you know, but if you knew the truth, you would never have exchanged a single word with him.”

Arvid’s eyes narrowed. “Well, the truth then,” she said. “What is the truth?”

“He’s a monster,” said Gerdur heatedly. “Sometimes he helps us, because he has obligations towards Asgard, but he is ruthless and cruel. He couldn’t care less about the life of an individual, and if he can save thirty people by killing ten others, he does so without hesitation. Do you know how many lives he has on his conscience?”

“And how do you know all this?”

“Books are filled with stories about it!”

“And you think that everything written in books is automatically true?” said Arvid. Of course she knew that Loke was no saint. He was probably insane, but she refused to see him as some kind of monster, just because others tried to convince her of that. Even Master Coth had warned her about taking the stories at face value.

“I think that every story contains some truth,” said Gerdur and looked at her firmly. “And that alone is enough for me to realize that Loke is dangerous and you should stay away from him at all costs. Not for nothing people say that he is the harbinger of chaos.”

“Sometimes people exaggerate,” Nod said flatly.

Arvid and Gerdur almost simultaneously turned around to him. Gerdur seemed surprised for a moment, then he shrugged.

“Sure,” he said, “but there are good reasons. If Loke was kind and selfless, there would be no such stories.”

“Loke certainly has his faults,” Nod said. “People fear him because he is unpredictable. It is reassuring to be able to blame someone for the world’s ills. I think Loke enjoys that role.”

“You’d think you have sympathy for him,” Gerdur said sharply, and Arvid suddenly realized that he had no idea of Nod’s connection to Loke.

“I’m just trying not to let myself be blinded by prejudice,” said Nod.

“I’m going to bed,” Arvid said loudly and stood up at once. She didn’t know where the feeling came from, but suddenly she could no longer bear it all. Too much had happened already that night; she had learned and heard too much. She didn’t want to witness a burgeoning dispute between Gerdur and Nod. Her head already felt like a buzzing bee’s nest.

Fortunately the two didn’t object and wished her a good night, Gerdur murmuring and without looking at her. Arvid had only taken a few steps across the room, when a loud voice could be heard through the hall: “Arvid!”

She froze and felt countless glances directed at her. It was Loke who had called her. When she looked up at his table, the situation had considerably changed. Borgarr still looked angry, but he had apparently given up and retreated to the opposite corner of the table, where he was engrossed in conversation with Aeldjarn. Master Coth, Lanfei and Ull held cups in their hands and seemed relaxed and cheerful, but others still threw him grim glances. Loke himself was adored by a young blonde woman at his side, from whose grip he now freed his arm.

“You don’t want to leave without saying goodbye, do you?” he shouted, rounding the table and coming straight toward Arvid. She felt as if half the hall was staring at her. A clear murmur rose at the tables around them.

When he arrived at her, he took her hand, and at the same moment any movement around them seemed to come to a halt. Arvid looked around startled and instinctively tried to withdraw her hand, but Loke held her firmly.

“Don’t let go,” he said urgently. “On your own you can’t leave the time stream for that long, and I need to talk to you.”

Now Arvid understood. He used the gift of time bending and had, by this simple touch, pulled her with him. Their environment didn’t stand still, it only moved infinitely slowly. The noise in the hall had become a strange, distorted, increasing and decreasing volume. Arvid took a deep breath and turned to Loke, who looked at her carefully.

“Always carry the map with you,” he said. “In the worst case you will have no access to other maps. But as I said, only come find me in case of an emergency. Here at the school you are better off than anywhere else.”

“Good,” Arvid said.

“Nod will keep an eye on you,” Loke said, “but you keep away from him. It mustn’t look as if you are friends, understood?”

“Understood.”

“I also think it would be safer if you gave up all your other friendships here at school.”

He let go of her hand. At the same moment everything around them awoke to rushing and clamorous life again.

“But that will probably happen all by itself.” He leaned toward her and kissed her on the cheek. “So until next time,” he whispered in her ear. Before Arvid had overcome her surprise, Loke had turned around and was gone.

The next few weeks were nothing like before. The rumors spread like wildfire, and wherever Arvid showed up, students put their heads together and whispered behind her back. In the dining hall, everyone avoided her. No one laughed; no one spoke loud enough that she could hear it. They talked about her, but the mood was marked by mistrust and fear—all because she had been seen together with Loke.

Gerdur made an effort to behave normally around her, but it wasn’t to be overlooked that he was avoiding her, too. He didn’t exactly stay out of her way, but he never came up to her or spoke to her by himself. When she talked to him, he seemed aloof and distant. Nod seemed to have disappeared completely, but she heard rumors that he and Gerdur had fallen out.

Initially Aleri tried to cheer her up, but soon Arvid realized that she was slowly worn down, too, and started to keep a distance. The many rumors didn’t leave her friend untouched. Many even came to her because they thought they would learn more details from her. Some said Arvid was a distant relative of Loke; others went as far as to say he had proposed to her at the festival. The most absurd stories were circulating, and sounded as if they came directly from a book of fairytales. Sometimes Arvid didn’t know whether to laugh or despair about it. With each passing day, she understood better why Loke didn’t always want to be recognized, and in her spare time she began to browse through the library, looking for information about him.

Arvid realized that Loke was one of the best-known gods in the Shadow World. What one actually knew about him was very limited, though. Although there was a staggering amount of writing about him, it was still all speculation, conjecture and rumors. Arvid didn’t even manage to find out how old Loke was. When she finally found reasonable and credible-sounding information, she shortly after came across a contradictory statement that seemed just as well-founded.

Nearly two weeks had passed since the festival when Thoke visited her in her room one evening. Although their relationship had been tense before the festival, he now seemed to be the only one left unimpressed by all the rumors. Thoke was also the only person to whom Arvid confided what she had agreed with Loke.

“Do you remember this?” he asked. He pulled a map out of a leather wallet and handed it to her.

Arvid nodded, surprised. It was the map with the red dots, which was inscribed in Old Jördisch. She had almost forgotten about it, because ever since the festival she had had no motivation to continue studying the world transitions.

“Falla helped me to translate it,” Thoke said, pointing to the text at the bottom edge. “It says here that the red dots are places where world transitions were observed, between the year fifty-two and two hundred sixty-eight.” He ran his finger over a second text directly above it. “The lighter dots are transitions that have been added later on and were recorded between two hundred sixty-eight and two hundred ninety-five.”