The Lokistone

Lokistone Chapter 1

"Out of the nothingness of sleep,
The slow dreams of Eternity,
There was a thunder on the deep:
I came, because you called to me.

I broke the Night's primeval bars,
I dared the old abysmal curse,
And flashed through ranks of frightened stars
Suddenly on the universe!

The eternal silences were broken;
Hell became Heaven as I passed. -

What shall I give you as a token,
A sign that we have met, at last?

I'll break and forge the stars anew,
Shatter the heavens with a song;
Immortal in my love for you,
Because I love you, very strong."

-"The Call," Rupert Brooke

CHAPTER ONE

Wind rushed through his cape, cutting between the chinks in his armor as he leaned forward, slapped his hands down and took control of the Chitauri flier. He dove straight down, the engine screaming, then leveled out into a stomach-plunging swoop. An escort instantly flanked him, turning their nightmarish helmeted faces toward him for a moment before following him in a breathtaking swing around a narrow stone building.

Loki glanced at the burning chaos of the city far beneath him, his jaw tightening. Rolling black smoke billowed from lower windows and the lines of vehicles upon the cracked streets. Sirens howled, bricks groaned as they crumbled from weakened walls and crashed to the ground. Chitauri engines hummed and whined as they swept between the skyscrapers like reapers through rows of tall grain. The air reeked of ozone and chemicals, and blasts of intense heat peppered the tangled sea breeze.

Something clouded Loki's right eye. He frowned, and reached up with his right hand to swipe it clear. His knuckles bumped his helmet. He took a sharp, bracing breath and glanced down at his hand...

Cold water marked the white skin of the back of it.

His engine slowed.

He stared at that droplet of water, the cacophony of the battle fading.

He closed his hand—felt something sticky.

His breathing became unsteady as his eyes focused.

The bright scarlet of fresh blood stained his fingertips.

His lip twitched.

It wasn't his blood.

He gritted his teeth, and wiped his suddenly-shaking hand off on his trouser leg with more force than he needed.

Now the blood smeared his clothes.

Loki bit out a snarl and grabbed hold of the steering with both hands again, blinking rapidly and gunning the engine.

He strafed the streets, firing down upon those noisy, dirty lines of vehicles, biting the inside of his cheek as clouds of flame blistered in droves.

Then, he pulled up and simply raced through the wreckage of the city, watching the Chitauri do their good work, listening as the noise built and battered in the canyons between the structures. Explosions shook the foundations. Whole buildings cracked in half and collapsed in slow, titanic measures that obliterated several blocks at a time, giving rise to vast clouds of poisonous gray dust—dust that plumed like a shroud sweeping over a corpse.

He reached the edge of the city and cast out over the bridges, then turned with his escort back into the mess of things, back toward Stark tower, his cape flapping. He pulled up, observing from a distance as the little group of multi-colored defenders took down the lead Chitauri carrier beast, sending its carcass splaying across two blocks. Loki drew in a breath, and spoke quietly.