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  The giant returned, bearing a bound-and-gagged Frigga.

  Thor tensed, prepared to fly through the air to remove his mother from the giant’s grip by force if needed.

  “However,” Thjasse added quickly, “I also have little reason to begin my own rule with a war against Asgard. Therefore, you and your mother are free to depart Jotunheim in peace.” The giant smiled. “After all, I currently have no quarrel with you or with Odin—or with the Lady Frigga.”

  With that, the giant inclined his head in a meager show of respect for Thor, and then backed away from the thunder god, never turning his back on him. “Release her!” he bellowed to the giant who had come out of the keep.

  The giant removed the gag and undid the ropes that kept her hands behind her back. Immediately, Frigga ran to her son’s side, putting a gentle hand to his right shoulder.

  At her touch, Thor all but collapsed, no longer able to stand straight.

  “Oh, Thor,” she said.

  Through clenched teeth, Thor said, “It is as if all the swords in the Nine Worlds are cutting through my left side. I do not believe that I am capable even of flying us home.”

  “I fear that I am unable to summon the power to bring us home by magickal means.”

  “Then we shall walk,” Thor said.

  Frigga shook her head. “You can barely stand, my son. Surely—”

  Then they heard the muted clopping of hooves on snow-covered ground, and they both turned to see that Thjasse had brought Goldfaxi out.

  “What is this?” Thor asked.

  “Hrungnir has little need of his mount at present, and I wish you gone from our lands as quickly as possible. Save for Sleipnir, none may expedite that departure with as much dispatch as Goldfaxi here. Once you return to Asgard, merely pat him once on the rump, and he will return to us on his own.”

  Thor nodded. “My thanks, Thjasse.”

  “I do not do this for you, Thor, merely to be rid of you.” With that, Thjasse turned and walked away, leaving Frigga to aid Thor in mounting the gold-maned horse. That was a lengthy and painful process, but once they were both astride Goldfaxi—as a horse bred to be ridden by giants, there was plenty of room for both on the steed’s back—they began their trek back to Asgard.

  Chapter Nine

  Once again disguised as a fly, Loki happily flew back to his keep. All in all, it was a generally successful endeavor, and the memory of Hrungnir’s righteous indignation and Thor being beaten to within an inch of his life would make the rest of his house arrest far more tolerable.

  As a fly, he landed on the bed next to his still-sleeping simulacrum. He then disposed of the doppelgänger and restored his own shape at the same time. Then he “woke up” and stretched and yawned.

  Still in his bedclothes, Loki wandered through his home. He noticed that the keep was now clean. The sprites, of course, knew that the eldritch being lying on the bed wasn’t truly Loki. No doubt relieved that Loki was actually gone, the sprites had tidied up rather thoroughly. True, he’d told them to perform their function with him present, but he knew they would not be comfortable with it.

  So it all worked out for the best. He expected that he would get bored ere long, but that would happen later. For now, he intended to enjoy himself.

  He poured himself a flagon of the finest mead and sat in his favorite chair and instructed his scrying pool to show him the recent past—specifically, the beginning of Thor’s conflict with Hrungnir.

  It began with Thor blathering as he twirled his hammer and flew toward the giant: “Then stand fast, Hrungnir, for defeat you, I shall! None may harm the personage of the mother of all Asgard without paying the price, and you may rest assured that the cost I exact will be most dear! For Asgard! For Odin! And most of all, for Frigga!”

  Loki almost giggled as he watched Thor crash into Hrungnir, falling violently to the cold ground, while Hrungnir himself had not budged.

  Oh, the look on Thor’s face! Even better than the look when Mjolnir didn’t come back to his hand while fighting the trolls.

  “What sorcery is this?” Thor cried, and Loki laughed heartily.

  “It’s my sorcery, dear brother! Mine that left you battered and bruised and hurting!”

  Loki was about to view it a second time when the wards he kept around his keep signaled that someone was approaching.

  And then he sensed the sheer power emanating from that someone, and realized that he was about to have a most unexpected visitor.

  It was the work of but a quick spell to alter his bedclothes to that of his usual green raiment, and greet Odin as he entered.

  “Well, well, well, I must say this is quite a surprise. Lucky for me, the sprites tidied up.”

  “Loki,” Odin said in an unusually subdued voice. “I would speak with you.”

  “In my keep? This is—well, peculiar. I believe your usual mode is to summon people to your throne. A sensible method, I must say, as it puts everyone on your terms. After all, who would dare challenge Odin in his very place of power? Your raised throne gives you the high ground in your own territory.”

  Odin began to pace about the sitting room, not actually facing Loki. “I have come to you for two reasons. One is simply the letter of the law. You are forbidden from leaving your keep, and summoning you to my throne room would facilitate you breaking the terms of your punishment. I could hardly allow myself to be responsible for that.”

  Loki didn’t see how that was much of a concern, since it was Odin’s own punishment. What did it matter if he himself violated it? But he said only, “And the second reason?”

  “I am not here as the ruler of the Realm Eternal, but as your father.”

  “And what does my adoptive father have to say to me?”

  Odin ignored the dig and said, “I am concerned. Your house arrest cannot be pleasant for you. Loki is never happier than when he is out and about and engaging in his petty schemes.”

  “On the contrary, the petty schemes I miss not at all. It is the complex plots that I regret my inability to complete during this tiresome exile.”

  “Interesting, that you should mention complex plots. We were the victims of one just recently.”

  Loki folded his arms. “Oh?” His ignorance was feigned—not very well feigned, but still, he felt he should at least put up the appearance that he had no idea what Odin was talking about.

  “After your punishment commenced, I rode out on Sleipnir in disguise. I wished—”

  “Yes, I’m aware,” Loki said with a dismissive wave.

  That got Odin to finally look at Loki, shocked that the trickster would admit to any wrongdoing.

  But then Loki smiled. “Mother told me.”

  Odin let out a sigh. “Of course.” He turned away and again started to pace the sitting room, hands behind his back. “While riding, I encountered Hrungnir, the current ruler of the frost giants. He was astride Goldfaxi, his speedy golden-maned mount. He did not know who I was, but he recognized Sleipnir for the fine steed he is. And so Hrungnir did challenge me to a race between our horses.”

  “I assume Sleipnir won?”

  “Naturally. But I did not reveal myself. I simply allowed Hrungnir to believe that he had been defeated by an ordinary old man.”

  Loki raised an eyebrow. “Oh, he must have been livid when he learned it was you.”

  Again, Odin looked at Loki. “He did learn it was me, yes. And how did you know that, my son?”

  “Because you wouldn’t be boring me to death with this incredibly uninteresting tale if he didn’t.”

  For a second time, Odin was forced to concede to Loki’s logic. “When Hrungnir learned I had defeated him, he viewed it as a personal insult—that I did not reveal my true self.”

  “Obviously,” Loki said dryly, “he does not understand your obsessive need to pretend to be someone else. A trait Hrungnir shares with most sensible folk, if it comes to that, Father.”

  Odin chuckled. “Quoth the shapeshifter. Regardless, he attacked
Asgard’s very walls, but Thor and the others were able to stop him at the Ida Plain.”

  “Yes, I did hear the Gjallarhorn. Woke me out of a sound sleep, it did. What a pity I am under house arrest. I could easily have aided my brother.”

  “That was not necessary, for the frost giants were routed, their leader retreating on his golden steed. But on his way back, he did find Frigga in the mountains.”

  “And what, pray tell, was Mother doing there?” Loki asked angrily. It was a question that had been preying on his mind for quite some time.

  “Protecting the children of Asgard at my instruction!” Odin snapped. “You covet the throne, Loki, so you would be well to know of all the responsibilities that such rule entails! That includes safeguarding all of Asgard’s citizens! Frigga and Gudrun brought all the children of Asgard to the Vale of Crystal, where they would be safe from Hrungnir regardless of the outcome of his invasion.” Odin looked away again, staring now at a bit of statuary on Loki’s shelf. “Frigga did stay behind and do battle with Hrungnir to delay him so Gudrun and the children would be safe.”

  “Is Mother safe?” Loki asked blithely.

  “She is now, yes. Hrungnir took her hostage, and bargained with her life: He would do battle alone with Thor in exchange for Frigga’s freedom.”

  Loki grinned. “Let me guess—my brother flew valiantly into the fray and did thrash the mighty Hrungnir?”

  “He attempted to. Hrungnir had been gifted with stone armor that was proof against Thor’s greatest blows.”

  “Impressive.”

  Odin turned to face his adopted son. “I am well familiar with the frost giants’ magick. It is capable of many wonders, but not this armor.”

  Shrugging, Loki said, “Hrungnir has been raiding Nornheim—perhaps the armor is one of Karnilla’s tricks, stolen by the giants.”

  “Perhaps. Its being stolen would explain why it suddenly failed in the midst of battle, allowing Thor his victory.”

  “That is certainly a good explanation.” Loki clapped his hands. “Well, Father, I do appreciate you coming by to fill me in on the latest happenings in Asgard. Please do feel free to stop by any time.”

  “So you have nothing to say about Hrungnir’s campaign against the Realm Eternal?”

  “Why would I? I have been trapped here, as Heimdall is my witness.”

  Odin nodded. “Heimdall does indeed say that he did not spy your departure.”

  “Do you not trust me, Father?” Loki asked with a grin.

  “Do I have reason to, my son?” Odin asked sadly.

  They stared at each other for several seconds, and it was Loki this time who broke the gaze, looking away from his father’s irritating visage.

  “I notice that you have not asked Thor’s condition?”

  “He did battle and won. His condition does not matter, for he is still alive—were he not, you would have begun your oratory with that particular revelation. Thor is strong, and Asgard has the finest healers in the Nine Worlds. I have no doubt that he will be up and about and annoying me in no time at all.”

  “It does sadden me, Loki, to see the love that Thor always had for you spit back in his face.”

  Wandering back to his raised chair, Loki sat in it. Odin wasn’t the only one who could claim the high ground in his territory with petitioners, after all.

  “Do you recall, Father, the time shortly after Thor’s exile on Midgard ended? He was no longer trapped in the body of the crippled healer on a permanent basis, though he did still share his existence. You were frustrated, because Thor had fallen in love with a mortal woman.”

  “Of course, I recall,” Odin said gruffly.

  “You kept summoning me to the throne room for advice on how to deal with it. And every time you asked, you referred to him as ‘my favorite son.’ Over and over, that was what you called him.” He shook his head. “I had hoped that your little lesson in humility would last at least until the Blake persona died of old age, but I was not so fortunate. And then you rubbed salt in the wound by constantly reminding me that you had a favorite son, and that it was not me.”

  Odin shook his head sadly. “If Loki does doubt the love that the All-Father holds for him, he should think back on all the misery he has caused, all the havoc he has wreaked—and that, with all that, he still lives. And still thrives. Another ruler would not have been so considerate.”

  With that, Odin turned and left.

  Loki simply stared at the now-empty sitting room. He grabbed for the flagon of mead, then angrily threw it across the room.

  He sighed. The place had been so well cleaned, too.

  In truth, he would have been more than happy to grant Hrungnir the stone armor indefinitely. While Loki’s original intention was for Hrungnir to use the armor against Asgard’s forces on his second attempt to invade, donning it to thrash Thor suited him just fine.

  Until he saw who the hostage was that had secured Thor’s solitary flight to Jotunheim.

  Loki would have been more than happy to see Hrungnir make Odin’s life miserable. If he thrashed Balder or Sif or the Warriors Three, all the better. If Heimdall was violently removed from the Bifrost by a blow from Hrungnir’s club, Loki would shed not a tear. And he certainly had no issue with Thor being beaten within an inch of his life.

  But Hrungnir saw fit to kidnap Loki’s mother. That was not something Loki would easily forgive—or forget.

  He could not help Frigga directly, for she would know of it. While there were others in the Nine Worlds from whom Loki could disguise his spellcraft, he could not do so from the woman who taught him. And if he moved to aid his mother by magickal means, she would not only be aware of his efforts, but castigate him for it. She would, he knew, insist that he aid Thor rather than herself.

  It was the selflessness that he loved about her, and that frustrated him no end.

  And so he did as he knew Frigga would ask, and aided Thor by putting a limit on the enchantment. After a time, the armor and the club both would revert to simple stone, easily shattered by Thor’s might.

  Best of all, the time limit was such that there was still plenty of time for Hrungnir to put quite the beating on his dear brother.

  Speaking of which …

  Loki cast two quick spells, one of which restored his mead to its flagon and his side, the other of which started the scrying pool going again. With mead in his belly and a song in his heart, he watched again as Thor crashed into Hrungnir and fell insensate to the ground.

  “What sorcery is this?”

  Elsewhere within Asgard’s fabled walls, Thor lay in bed.

  Every single part of his body hurt, though it was as nothing compared to how he felt toward the end of the battle with Hrungnir.

  Nonetheless, he had won the day. Goldfaxi returned him and Frigga to Asgard’s borders and then galloped back to Jotunheim. Sif and the others had been waiting for him, and she and Balder brought him immediately to the healers, while the Warriors Three escorted the Lady Frigga back to her home to recover from her own ordeal. Harokin and the Einherjar returned to Valhalla, disappointed.

  A knock at his door, and Thor looked up to see Sif entering with a pitcher of water.

  “Ho, Sif! It is good to gaze upon your lovely visage!”

  Smiling, Sif said, “Would that I could say the same, but your visage has seen better days.”

  His left arm immobilized in a sling, Thor moved his right hand to his face, which was covered in cuts and bruises. “Indeed. Your courage in facing me in this state speaks well of you.”

  Sif laughed, and Thor tried to, only to wince.

  “I am sorry, Thor,” Sif said quickly.

  “Nay, apologize not, fair Sif. When I was a mortal healer, I did often say that laughter was the best medicine. And the pain does, at least, remind me that I still live.”

  “You have won a great victory today, Thor. Hrungnir’s brutality will darken the land no more because of you.” As she spoke, Sif poured some of the water into a mug. “The
healers also say you need to drink many fluids.”

  “Another bit of advice I oft gave in my time as one.” Thor smiled and took the mug, gulping the water heartily. “So what news is there from Jotunheim?”

  “None of Hrungnir, that is for sure. It is said that Thjasse now rules the frost giants.”

  Thor nodded gravely. “They bear watching. Thjasse is clever, far more so than most giants—including Hrungnir, who was no fool.”

  Before Sif could say anything, Balder’s voice came from the hall. “Ho, the house!”

  “Balder!” Thor grinned with glee. To have not one, but two of his dearest friends visit filled his heart with unbridled joy.

  The white-haired god entered, holding a burlap sack. “Idunn left these at your doorstep. It seems it’s your time to receive the golden apples.”

  “They will be gratefully received,” Thor said.

  Balder dropped the sack by the bed and pulled out one of the golden apples of immortality and handed it to the thunder god.

  As Thor did bite gingerly down on it—his jaw was quite sore, and his teeth ached—Balder said, “I have just come from Odin. The All-Father is consumed by affairs of state, but he promises to visit this even.”

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  Smiling conspiratorially, Balder said, “One of those duties is to talk down Harokin. He wanted to lead the Einherjar across the mountains to Jotunheim as soon as he saw you and Frigga ride home.”

  “Harokin is a good man,” Thor said. “And I would feel as he, were our positions reversed.”

  “There is also a rumor,” Balder added, “that the All-Father did visit Loki’s keep.”

  Sif frowned. “Why would he do that?”

  “I do not know.”

  “I do,” Thor said quietly. “Hrungnir’s route to invade Asgard was the same as that used by Baugi and his troll horde. More to the point, Hrungnir’s armor did stink of Loki’s magick.”