Wrought of Iron and Silk, Book One [2014 Watty Award Winner]

Chapter 8 - Sovereignty

Chapter 8 – Sovereignty

Loki watched as Raven disappeared through the mouth of the cavern, yet she remained a growing presence in the back of his mind, a force to be reckoned with. He was confident that his raven, like every other mage, master and clever adversary he had ever encountered, would be more vulnerable than ever. A great longing stirred her, but a longing so purposeless, so undefined, that it spent itself with its own emotion.

A river of adrenaline roared through Sleipnir. The stallion tossed his head and his muscles bunched as he gathered himself to race back down the trail toward Asgard. Loki reined him in, quickly but gently, allowing him to go forward a few more steps, and then pulled him to a stop.

Loki turned in his saddle and looked back toward the sloped hillside, thinking.

The God of Mischief shook his head. His veil of the False Odin and his magic had been the ultimate and undefeatable force until now. It was his power and there could be no doubt about its supreme effectiveness and his ability to wield it without opposition. Fear in one hand and promises in the other; minds were made pliable and responsive by his spell.

That was the secret in maintaining control.

It was so easy.

Though inferior, the dwarves were very clever, and Loki continued to marvel at the diabolical minds that had invented the weapons of Asgard. They had supplied him with whatever he'd needed to control his realm for both his needs and theirs, yet they continued to hold back the heavy armaments and more modern weaponry. And until that state of affairs changed, he would remain at their mercy, which was unacceptable for a god of his standing.

He would have to force them to deal with him as an equal power - as someone with the key to thwarting their intentions just as he would thwart Odin's.

The Raven was bound to him, and as the source of everything she feared and wanted; he would reward her. And his gift to her would be a bit of the same power he wielded, but she would have to fight the onslaught on her senses – the heaviness behind her eyes, the need to cling to him, the weakness that made her bones turn to water – with the only weapon she possessed, her formidable self-control.

As the rhythmic sound of wind gusted through the night, Loki took a deep breath, feeling fury pierce his heart, shifting the shadows hidden deep within his soul. He had stifled the thoughts of slaying his father, but kept them in his heart, like a fire that burns underground, churning and insidiously smoldering, until it eroded his core.

It isn't time yet. His thoughts came with a venomous anger.

As for his little raven, she'd surprised him with her power and she would be his leverage in obtaining the dwarves' secrets. She would be his pawn, and with her, he would taint his father's glory, tarnish his great trust, and overturn his counsels and his rule.

It was, indeed, remarkable how one well-placed gambit could penetrate every illusion, every exotic move, and every stratagem – not to mention the flesh behind them.

Impatiently, Sleipnir tossed his head again, his eyes wide and nostrils flaring. Gathering the reins, Loki urged the eight-legged beast back toward the trail. He leaned forward and abruptly dug his heels into the horse's sides. Sleipnir reared, then gathered himself and leaped through the darkness, racing back to Asgard.

❧

"I had no intention of hurting you. I came looking for the trolls that have been raiding our homes and killing our men." Tin said carefully, gesturing with his spear for Cecilia to rise. She managed it, clinging to Fenrir's ruff, and Tin did not comment when she bent down woozily and retrieved her sword.