Previously: Despite Loki-Thökk’s magical efforts to disguise them both, Sága has a grim premonition of the future.
LOKI-THÖKK SWATTED ME with the twig. “Time to switch it up again! Cover yourself with the old fire ashes, then lie down on your side and keep still like you’re sleeping.”
I rubbed ash on my skin and took my place on the ground. “What will you make me now, a pet rat?”
Loki-Thökk grinned and shrugged their shoulders. They sat down against the cave wall near me and folded their legs like a pretzel. For an old troll, Loki-Thökk had remarkable flexibility.
I closed my eyes when Skuld and Brynhild barged into the cave. Searching it together, each passed by me several times, kicking up dust. I turned my nose into my arm, holding back a sneeze.
“Ugh! Where could she hide?” Skuld kicked over a barrel. The enthusiastic sloshing of the mead inside it compelled me to open one eye.
Skuld rolled the barrel to Loki-Thökk. “Open this!”
“I will not!” Loki-Thökk squirmed. “That would ruin the lot!”
Skuld stood the barrel back up and nodded at Brynhild. “Cut it open through the middle.”
Brynhild raised her sword, slicing the barrel in half like butter. Sweet-smelling liquid poured out, some of it splashing against the cave wall and running into the dirt. They did the same to the other two barrels, kicking over the bottom halves and spilling all of it.
My mouth watered.
Loki-Thökk scowled. “This is all your fault, Sága Vörsdottir! You owe me big!”
What could I say about such a grievous loss? Certainly nothing that would help. Instead, I fantasized about escape, but fought the urge to run. I never was a fast runner.
Skuld came upon the spot where I lay. “Is that a boar?”
“As far as my eyes can tell,” Brynhild said, sword still in hand. Mead dripped from the blade as she raised it again. “Do you want me to make sure?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Oh, I suppose you must,” Loki-Thökk said, slapping their knees for effect. “You’ve already deprived an old troll of a sizeable mead store. Why not butcher the winter meat, too? Get on with it, then!”
Brynhild whispered to Skuld.
Skuld grunted. “Leave the boar for old Thökk. Let’s go help the wolves search the riverbank.”
The Valkyries left, marching further away this time. It was finally over. I rolled onto my back and breathed a sigh of relief, wondering if any of the tipped barrels held even a small dribble of celebratory drink for us to enjoy.
“Here piggy, piggy!” Loki-Thökk said, attempting to lighten the mood.
I snorted out loud, returning the sentiment, but they didn’t respond. Lifting my head, my stomach fluttered when a bead of sweat formed on Loki-Thökk’s brow. They stared at the cave opening.
“I know who Thökk is,” Brynhild sang. The menacing melody echoed, sending a chill up my spine. She stood just outside, dangling a sealskin hood from her hand. When she stepped inside, she waved the hood back and forth. “I’ve got something special for you to wear, Loki!”
We were caught. I should have known the Valkyries would carry such a weapon. Sealskin hoods blocked a sorcerer from performing all magic, like that used to raise and command spirits of the dead. Or, the illusions used to hide a fugitive from view. When Brynhild slipped that hood onto Loki-Thökk’s head, I’d appear as myself again. I scooted further into the darkness.
Loki-Thökk jumped up. “Sorry, honey, gotta go!” Their cloak dropped to the ground when they disappeared into thin air. I listened for the buzz of a fly, but heard nothing. They must have figured a fly wouldn’t get past the keen-eyed Brynhild and opted to shift into a stealthy flea instead. It wouldn’t be the first time.
I shook my throbbing head. Loki had left me high and dry. If only I’d hidden near the river, at least then I could have tried to shift and escape again. Asshole.
Brynhild smiled when the cloud of illusion dissipated and she found me sitting on the ground naked and covered in ash. She clipped the hood to her belt and held her sword to my throat. I sucked in a deep breath and wondered if it would be my last.
Skuld reappeared, her thumbs tucked inside the breastplate of her armor. When she saw me, she chuckled. “My, oh my. You’ve had a busy day — started out a goddess and ended up a rug, a goat, and a boar. I wonder, what should I make of you now?”
A low grumble escaped me. I clasped my shaky hands together as images of the weaving loom in Náströnd entered my mind. I knew Skuld was thinking of it just then, probably fabricating a justification for subjecting me to it.
The way the Valkyries used the device was a horrible sight to behold. The loom itself was made of spears. Once they killed me, the Valkyries would chop off my head to use as a loom weight, and my intestines would become the cords that would be weaved into cloth. I pressed my lips together and refused answer the question. My eyes searched the dark cave for any recoverable drop of mead, but found none.
Skuld continued laughing, wholeheartedly this time. I’d existed for more than two thousand years and I’d never heard her laugh like that ... until today. I hoped it was a good thing. It didn’t matter that it was at my expense.
Maybe it meant she didn’t plan to kill me.
ode to loki (explicit)…
a note from the author…
Well, shoot. Sága didn't fair so well in that episode. Loki is a being of chaos, so even when they try to help things are fated go awry. What will happen to Sága now? Stay tuned to find out! ;-)
As always, thank you for reading!