Marvel, page 23
“Greetings, Jane Foster.”
Heimdall was there, of course, at his usual post. His words were warm, but Rūna quickly noted the concern etched deeply across his face.
“You’re Heimdall,” said Jane, brushing out her wrinkled suit jacket and extending a hand. The tall golden gatekeeper regarded that hand for a moment before gingerly taking it.
“I am he,” Heimdall replied. “And you are running out of time. Odin All-Father comes hourly to inquire after his granddaughter. I could not conceal the truth of her capture.”
“Is she all right?” Jane asked, letting go of Heimdall’s gauntlet to grip his forearm with both hands. “Tell me my baby girl is okay.”
Heimdall lowered his head, consoling her gently. “She is unharmed, Jane Foster.”
Rūna took Jane by the elbow, leading her away. “For now. But there is no telling how many innocents will perish should Asgard invade over Stark’s arrogance.”
“Our fate now falls to you, Rūna. You must sway the king, though I fear it will not be easy. Grief has clouded his mind,” said Heimdall, turning to watch them go. “Warlike thoughts soothe him and distract him from the path of temperance. He has not been the same since losing his sons.”
They could linger there no longer, though Rūna was not keen to proceed; she had taken a solemn vow to serve the throne of Asgard, and as a Valkyrie it was her pride and her honor to do so. Never had the king asked something of her that she would not freely give. She had no father of her own. Valkyries sprang to life fully formed, created with shield and spear in hand. Some believed the Valkyries hailed from the dreams of a traveling seeress; others claimed that the dire wailing of lost souls trying to find Valhalla brought them into being. Whatever the truth might be, Rūna had never known the tenderness of a mother’s touch, just the comradery and devotion of her fellow shield maidens. As Odin was her commander and her liege, it was natural for her to look to him for the acceptance a parent might offer. It was right there in his title: All-Father. He was a guardian to all, not just his royal children.
Rūna escorted Jane across the bridge. She could feel the woman’s exhaustion. Jane was upright by sheer force of will, by pure love and concern for her daughter. Still, she found time to marvel at the sights that greeted her—the high spires of Valaskjalf twining above the city; the clear waters of the Neytr Sea as it poured over the surrounding crags, flowing ever into the stars; the sorcerer towers floating above the skyline like diamonds hung on fairy wire. Rūna tried to imagine it through Jane’s mortal eyes and her chest went tight with emotion, with wonder and love for her home. The gates unfurled for them, the steps leading up to the city proper flooded with mustering soldiers.
A dark murmur followed them. Rūna could feel their curious, prying eyes.
“This is bad,” Jane whispered. Her eyes were wide as she gazed around at the number of armored Asgardians. “How will you stop it?”
They paused at the top of the stairs, the palace looming ahead. Rūna cleared her throat, shifting. “I do not think I can. But you, Jane Foster, you could persuade my sovereigns.”
Jane’s face turned ashen. “Me? Is this a joke? I thought you were just bringing me here to keep me safe from Stark!”
“That was one reason, aye,” Rūna replied. “The other was to bring you before Odin and Frigga and plead with them for understanding. For time.”
“No, no, no.” Jane shook her head. “I can’t…I don’t…” She wiped her hand over her mouth and swiveled Rūna away from the eavesdropping crowd below, lowering her voice. “They probably despise me! They probably despise the very idea of me. They didn’t even know I existed! Our family was their son’s big secret, and look, I know you haven’t spent much time on Earth yet, but trust me when I say that the daughter-in-law gets the blame for everything. Ev-ver-ee-thing. They will never believe that all this hiding, all this secrecy, was their precious son’s idea.”
“Tell them that,” Rūna insisted, dragging her toward the palace doors. “But nicer. And don’t smile. And bow whenever you can. And try not to swear.”
“Rūna.”
She refused to slow her pace. Heimdall was right; they were out of time. She was relatively confident that she and Loki could retrieve Quinn and Mjolnir from Stark’s possession, but that would be complicated significantly if Odin chose to invade Midgard. War bred calamity, chaos, and innocent casualties. The sentries on duty watched silently behind tall, obscuring helmets. Each gave the Valkyrie a solemn, subtle nod of recognition. “Whatever happens, whatever they decide, I will stand by you and Loki, and we will see that your daughter is returned safely.”
“You would really trust Loki to help?” asked Jane.
Rūna quelled a shiver of disgust. “I would. I do. Something is changing in him.”
“I don’t know. Thor never had glowing things to say about his brother.”
“Neither have I,” Rūna said plainly. “But he threw himself unselfishly into battle, he has forsaken all ambitions of conquest, and when he fought by my side, what meager power he possesses conjured a hammer almost in Mjolnir’s image. And more than that, I see it in his eyes: He has real affection for your daughter.”
Jane licked her lips nervously, picking at invisible dirt on her sleeve. “Probably because he wants to find some way to get his hands on Mjolnir.”
Rūna stopped short. They were outside the throne room. The doors were closed, the shielded sentries flanking the entrance looking to her for an order. She faced Jane, brow slightly furrowed as she gazed down at her. “Is that what you fear? That your daughter will be denied her father’s mantle?”
Jane stepped back, flustered. “No, I…No. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted her to follow in Thor’s footsteps, I just wanted her to be a normal kid with a normal life.”
Unexpectedly, Rūna found herself caring. Not just about the future princess of Asgard, Quinn, but about Jane, too. So far, the people of Earth had shocked her with their tenacity, and yes, their primary foe was an earthling, too, but the humor and strength she had seen from Jane, Donna, and Quinn amazed her. The place had apparently transformed Loki, too, who had become almost palatable. With their short, frail lives, it was no wonder so many mortals fell to the temptations of greed and corruption; they rose each day anew with the Rock Troll of mortality bearing down on them.
And with that fear and brevity to consider, Jane just wanted something simple and good for her daughter. What would it be like, she wondered, to be so cared for? To be the center of someone’s world?
Rūna sighed.
“I’m sorry, Jane. I think we are beyond that now.”
They went in.
Sif and the Warriors Three were in attendance, kneeling along the wide carpet leading to the thrones. Loki’s hound, Thori, roused himself at their arrival, jowls flapping with drool as he hurried to Rūna’s side and buried his muzzle against her thigh. The ravens kept their vigil behind Odin, who was even then finishing a speech to his chosen generals, who received it on their knees. Two singing skalds stood behind the queen, draped in purple cloth, covering their faces with gloved hands and droning a somber note while Odin spoke his command.
“Protectors of the realm, hear me! We go now to Midgard, one vanguard with one heart. It is a sorrow that we must march to the distant, foreign field that claimed Asgard’s dear son, but it is also with future cheer in mind, for we will return with a princess. And Mjolnir…precious Mjolnir. Though I have called to it, Mjolnir hears me not, it will not be returned to this kingdom by my desire alone, but it, too, shall be reclaimed. We will secure the future of the Realm Eternal.” With precision, he struck the end of his spear once against the stone floor, and the sound rang out high above the singing skalds. Frigga winced.
When his one eye fell on Rūna and Jane, he barked with laughter.
“Now here is one more champion for our cause,” said Odin, opening his arms in friendship to Rūna. “Good! That is good. And here is one whom I do not know, but who I suspect is the mother of Asgard’s princess. Fear not, mortal, you are welcome here, and be at ease: We will soon crush the villain who dared to endanger one of the family.”
Jane shied away as Odin came down the steps of the dais toward them. He was a formidable rock of a man, snowy and craggy and solid. The queen’s gaze burrowed into Rūna’s forehead. Finally, tentatively, she let their eyes meet. At once, she absorbed the queen’s fear. One of Odin’s ravens cawed, drawing his attention, and he noted the tense look Rūna shared with his wife.
Odin’s arms fell to his sides. “Oh. Oh, I see. You have not come to embrace me in friendship, have you? ’Tis no matter. We march.” He spared a single, withering glance for Jane Foster before continuing down the carpet. Pausing near Sif and the others, he raised his spear as if to anoint them. “Come, loyal champions. We march.”
The throne room began to empty, an exodus led by Odin. Frigga remained, all the rich gossamer parts of her dulled in the darkened hall. Her hands were clasped tightly together as she approached Jane and Rūna.
“He must be stopped,” Rūna whispered to the queen after a perfunctory bow. All traditions were forgotten in the panic of the moment. “My queen, please, war with Midgard is a mistake. This is the deliberate provocation of one man. There is no need for it. Loki and I—”
Sif and the Warriors Three had stood. Though they stood with Odin, their faces wore the same frozen skepticism as the queen’s. Odin had overheard Rūna and clanged his spear ruthlessly on the floor. Raising a trembling arm, he pointed at Rūna.
“Loki. You are a proven fool, Valkyrie, to place your faith so lightly. Ripped from the Odinsleep, plunged into restless darkness, I wake now in earnest to hear the drums of war. I had forgotten myself. I had forgotten the lifeblood of our people. The spear, the hammer, the shield, the raven that plucks the eye, and the hound that tears the throat, those are the symbols of Asgardians. I had forgotten it, but now, spear in hand, I remember, and so we march. An upstart seeks to use our own vaunted weapon against us, strives to storm our lands and bloody our streets, and no king of imagination and command would allow it.” His red cloak dragged behind him as he continued down the hall toward the open doors.
Rūna took Jane by the hand, chasing after him.
“Please, All-Father, you must believe me. You will not be invading a lonely village. Innocent lives will be lost, and this Stark…He is unpredictable. Reckless. There is no telling what he will do if he feels threatened by the might of our armies—” When he would not stop, she did the unthinkable: She laid a hand upon him, pulling on him to stop.
Odin retaliated at once, striking out with his arm. There was still plenty of strength in the god, and Rūna flew hard against the archway of the doors, grunting as she slid to the floor, her cape in a heap about her.
“Hey!” Jane gasped, coming to Rūna’s side and propping her up.
“The girl must be brought here. She must be taught,” Odin said, as if he hadn’t heard a single word.
Rūna saw the lightning coiling in Jane’s eyes. “Speak, Jane. I am fine.”
She stood on her own, and Jane tore away from her. The human glanced between Rūna and Frigga, waiting for some kind of consensus. But Odin was not slowing, and his determined, plodding steps took him out into the hall, then down it, toward the gates of the palace and the soldiers gathering there. There was a murmur growing there, restlessness, eagerness for direction, for action. Jane ran ahead, out into the silvered light, Rūna and the queen not far behind.
“If he strikes her, he will kill her,” the queen murmured, stricken.
Rūna took the sovereign’s arm. Her skin was like ice. Jane wedged herself between Odin and the crowd that looked to him for orders.
“My kid is down there,” she said, planting herself. Her eyes filled with tears, but her shoulders were straight and tall as she faced down the god-king. “Quinn. Thor’s daughter. Your granddaughter. What do you think it will do to her, to put all this on her shoulders? How do you think she’ll feel when she finds out a war was fought over her?”
Odin paused, examining Jane closely for the first time.
Rūna froze. Jane spoke sense; Odin would surely hear it.
“If she is a true daughter of Asgard, she will accept the cost.”
A cheer went up from the soldiers. They wanted to fight for their realm. They wanted to rescue their princess.
“You don’t know anything about her,” Jane whispered viciously. “I always wondered why Thor wanted to hide us from you. Now it makes perfect sense.”
Odin’s rage flashed, his eye glowing, a powerful light suffusing his body and spear. It was now or never, to honor the promise she had made to the dead. Rūna dashed forward, throwing herself in front of Jane before the spear thrust landed, absorbing the king’s blow before it could wound or kill Jane. A ripple of pain, a wave of thunder, blasted outward from the point of contact. Rūna was hurtled into the air, arcing over the steps, landing hard on her back, staring up into the amazed faces of Asgard’s warriors.
“You forget yourself, Valkyrie!” Odin roared. “You overstep.”
The pain had to be thrown off. It had to be forgotten. Jane’s mouth hung open as she stared down at Rūna, her hands up and open, frozen there in defense. It required all her remaining strength to stand and face her king once more. “Prince Thor is dead, and I will make my vows and keep my oath, but to his daughter, to the future of Asgard, and for the good of our realm.”
Odin slashed the air with his spear, then angled it toward her. Ropes of spitting energy gathered there, waiting for Odin’s command to be unleashed. “You will cease this pointless treachery. You will take your place in the vanguard, Valkyrie, where you belong.”
Ever so carefully, she noted Frigga’s sly movement toward the king. Rūna’s mind spun, a patchworked plan coming together in seconds. She knew the queen’s intentions. Better than that, she knew her own. She had thought Loki ridiculous when he suggested that they must throw off the cycles that bound and defined them, but now the truth of it was self-evident. This war was not just; its opposing generals acted from passion, not from wisdom.
We must decide our own futures now.
Those were Loki’s words. She held them like a talisman to her heart as she nodded once, subtly, to the queen. Frigga was a talented sorceress, and with newly steadied hands she let the purple and gold loops of her magic fly out toward Odin, wrapping around the spear and yanking it to the side. The blast from Odin’s spear fired harmlessly into the ether. Jane leapt back, caught by the Warriors Three behind her. Rūna stuck out her lower lip and clenched her teeth, then whistled, long and high, for her steed.
The white winged horse appeared above the towers of Valaskjalf. This was Skæva, and a more magnificent and loyal animal Rūna had never met. A thousand years of deeds they shared, and a thousand nights of Rūna tucked beneath his silken wings as they slept. Her heart soared to look upon him. Skæva kicked at the air, then dove, smoothly gliding down over the gates to where Rūna waited, poised to jump.
“Go! Save the child!” she heard Queen Frigga cry. “I will protect her mother!”
Odin had regained himself, and staggered toward the stairs, then leaned against his spear, watching as the Valkyrie pulled herself astride the horse and flew with all speed toward the Rainbow Bridge.
25
AFTER THE FIREFIGHTERS, POLICE officers, and towing crew had left, well after dark fell, Donna and Loki heeded the call of their growling stomachs. Over the phone, she convinced a server at her favorite pub to drive over emergency beef on weck. It was a local obsession and one Donna had shown him shortly after his exile began: a pile of rare beef on a special roll dusted with salt and caraway seeds. Donna had a suitcase full of money now, an impressive insurance claim to lodge, and no more Mjolnir cluttering up her property. With her new riches, she tipped the harried waitress that dropped off their food two hundred dollars.
They dug a grave for Brian, covered it with stones, lit a bonfire next to it, pulled up dilapidated lawn chairs, and ate their midnight dinner. Thurman Thomas, the pug, dozed on Donna’s lap.
“Gods, billionaires, gunfights, and nothing beats the timeless glory of this baby right here,” said Donna, placing a loving kiss on the salted crusty top of her sandwich. It was a food fit for the bellies of Asgardian champions. “Wherever your spirit goes, Brian, I hope there’s plenty of crickets to munch with your friends.”
Loki stared into the flames, cradling his slab of sandwich with both hands. “Were he of my people, he would be in Valhalla, the eternal mead hall of warriors. There the skalds sing forever of deeds too fine to be forgotten, chanting names to keep them alive.”
“Maybe there’s a gecko version,” Donna suggested.
“I hope so.”
He couldn’t stop thinking about his niece being carried off into the sky. It was a defeat he could not suffer lightly. The idleness, the waiting, made him want to peel off his own skin. Where were Jane and Rūna? What was taking them so long?
Your absurd and stubborn father, that’s what’s taking so long.
“We’ll get her back,” said Donna, reading his expression. She reached across the chairs and placed her hand on his wrist. The flames popped and flared, smoke twirling into the sky. The emergency vehicles had left hours ago, the remains of the guest trailer piled in some landfill. There were too many witnesses for Loki’s hypnotism to be of use, and he had a feeling Stark would worm his way out of responsibility for the damage somehow.
Not if he’s dead.
Loki brushed the thought away; what mattered was finding Quinn before Stark did anything irreversible. Squeezing his wrist, Donna sighed. She looked oddly calm. Peaceful.
