Stormbringer: Book 2 of the Wyrd

Twenty-Two

In the end, it was always going to come down to this. A betrayal. Not mine, even. At least, not exactly.

I feel the magic, thrumming down my horns and into my bones. Runes bending the Wyrd, folding space and time, air around us blurring, then solidifying. Turning from ionized gas into the four-foot-tall, armor-clad shapes of two score dvergar.

No prizes for guessing who's at the head.

I'm not surprised by our sudden company, but Magni and Móði are. From the ground, Móði drops into a combat stance, hands raised and the edge of runes dancing on his tongue. From above, on the pillars, Magni goes to pick up Mjölnir.

"I would not, if I were you." From the throng of his army, Tóki steps forth.

"Dvergr!" Móði never did quite get the notion of people preferring to be referred to by their names. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Step away from the hammer, little godling," Tóki says. "It belongs to the dvergar, you will not have it."

Móði looks to me and he looks to Tóki. Then to the army, surrounding us on every side. His eyes go wide, and I feel the beginning edges of suspicion begin to fray.

"We had a deal, dvergr." Magni does not share his brother's hesitation. "We have no quarrel with you, but you cannot have Mjölnir. Nor can you hope to defeat me when I wield it, no matter your numbers." His gauntlets close around the haft, hefting it upward. All around us, lightning snakes across the heavens.

Tóki's rock-stiff lips crack into the grimace that passes for his smile. "Before you do this," he says, "perhaps you should ask your 'bondsman' if he thinks it wise."

Magni's eyes shift to me, taking in my relaxed stance and utter lack of surprise over our new company. "Jötunn," he snarls. "If you have betrayed us—"

"Oh fuck off!" I've had enough. Really, truly enough. " 'If I've betrayed you'? Of course I fucking have, you brainless piece of shit. Just who do you think I am?" Dragging me across the fucking Realms like a fucking pet. Beaten and chained and tortured.

Magni roars, hefting his new prize. "Then your blood will be the first to spill!"

"Come at me!" I snarl, every feather on my body fluffing out, pulled by the static charge Magni's rage is building in Mjölnir's metal. "Do it! It's what you want, isn't it? To spill the blood of jötnar? To have everyone think you worthy to pick up your father's bloody banner?"

Magni roars, arm raised, ready to loose the storm, when Móði says, "Brother, no! He goads you! Look to the dvergr instead. His hands, Brother. Look at what he holds!"

Magni hesitates, just enough. Just enough to take one look at Tóki.

Tóki, who holds Járngreipr in his stumpy paws.

Magni looks down at his own hands, to where his fingers are stuffed inside the exact same set of gauntlets. He hesitates.

"What's wrong, tough guy?" I snarl. "I'm still waiting for my smiting. Show me what a true son of Thor can do!"

Móði, ever the clever brother, has turned to Tóki. "What betrayal is this?" he demands.

"Your pet came to me," Tóki says. "Offering wicked deals in exchange for its freedom. It would have me forge a new pair of gauntlets for Mjölnir's wielding. False ones, ones not woven with the true runes of Járngreipr." He gestures to the gloves in his hands. "The true gauntlets are with me. And you will not have them."

Móði's eyes widen, his mouth dropping open as he turns to me with "Why?"

I don't even deign him with an answer. If the self-righteous piece of shit can't figure it out himself, then he doesn't deserve to know.