The Seventh Stone

Chapter Five

"No—stop!" I blurt out. "The hell do you want!?"

"An apology," says a deep, sarcastic voice behind me. My eyes dart toward it, toward a man striding out from behind the line of soldiers—with a red-hot cheek.

He steps closer, leaning toward. "I'm waiting," he purrs.

I can't help the look of disgust on my face, so prying my mouth open takes an active effort.

"...so sorry." I hiss sarcastically.

His eyes narrow as his smile grows wider, and he shakes his head. "Tsk-tsk. Oh, I'm afraid I don't believe you."

I part my lips to respond, but another voice suddenly interjects from somewhere in the crowd.

"That's enough," it says, and the man turns sharply toward it.

A second, taller man casually steps out from behind the soldiers, and glances at me. "It's not like you didn't deserve it. Release her," he says in a commanding voice.

One of the soldiers immediately unlocks my shackles, and I raise my hands to my chest, rubbing away the rawness as I step away. I glance back at them—two heavy, dirty pieces of metal that are now hanging off the soldier's belt.

"Fuck off, Olen," the man sneers.

"You first, brother," Olen grins wryly as he steps past him, eyeing me. "And you—I thank you for the favor," he chuckles. "It was bound to happen, only a matter of time. What's your name?"

I look between them for a moment, lips sealed. I can see the resemblance—the same brown hair and eyes, even the color of their tattoos, if that's what they are. Olen's relaxed expression is slightly more welcoming than his brother's, invoking two separate impulses in my head: silence, or diplomacy. I wonder what Loki would choose.

"Lara," I say, deciding that the obvious answer is diplomacy. "Mercer."

"Lara Mercer," my names slips off the edge of his tongue, like one, single word. "You're not from around here, are you?"

I twist the corners of my mouth into a subtle grin—furthering my attempt at a pleasant dialogue. "I'm starting to think it's obvious."

He grins, tilting his head downward with a nod. "I'd say assailing the crown is quite definitive of that."

My lips part surprisedly as I glance at the brother—staring bitterly back at me.

"Oh, don't worry," Olen adds, straightening up as he looks back at him, preparing to patronize him further. "I'm sure my brother will come to his sense and apologize in a few days—won't you, Yerul?"

Yerul cocks his head to the side, and makes a vulgar gesture at his brother.

"I, uh..." I say nervously, as both of them turn and look at me. "Don't need an apology. Just don't do it again... To anyone," I add—for emphasis.

"There you are," Olen smiles and throws a hand up, motioning to his brother. "A conflict well-resolved—and maybe next time you'll think twice before acting like an ass."

I look over at Yerul. He rolls his eyes annoyedly and turns, strutting out of the circle with a look of malcontent—as if we were the ones who caused the unnecessary fuss. Olen grins at his departure as he turns and faces me,

"Pleasantly entertaining, my brother," he smiles warmly. "Either way, he brought me a pleasing acquaintance with you, Lara. What brings you to Vizela?"

I pause for a moment, looking up at him—at least now I know what this place is called. Some information is better than none, but I have no idea how much of my information is safe to share with him. There's not a lot of time to think about it, but Loki said we needed a lead, and I'll probably get more from him than from small talk with the shop keeps.

"I'm actually looking for something," I say reluctantly. "A... A very little stone."

"A very little stone?" he croons. "Amusing—I'm afraid we have many here," he gestures to the market stands.

"I know," I nod, glancing at the crystal objects hanging and laying on tables all around us. "I saw those. No, the one I'm looking for is, uh..." I pause, pursing my lips. Olen's brow flickers as he watches my attempt to formulate my thoughts. "Talkative?" I wince slightly.

A thoughtful nod is what I get—one that inexplicably, is not followed up by laughter... Hell, I'd laugh at me. It's hard to sound serious when what you're saying sounds crazy. It's also taking an effort to keep my voice steady as I look around for signs of Loki.

'Let me do the talking,' I voice him mockingly in my head... Damn it all. One of us should've seen this coming.

"So the very little stone talks," Olen says, crossing his arms as he tilts his head. "And... What does it look like?" his voice ends on a high, inquisitive note.

I crinkly my brows confusedly... He's humoring me? Which means he's either really nice, or really good at staying composed.

Either way, I don't want to make this a wasted opportunity. I could just mention something about the 'seventh infinity stone' and see where that takes the conversation, but... I think if Loki were here, and time stopped long enough for us to discuss, I think we'd agree to exercise more caution.

"Well," I sigh heavily, tucking a curl behind my ear "It's small. Round. And a white light emanates from it."

Olen's eyes narrow into two thin slits as he peers back at me.

"I see," he says, and his tone drops low. "And what does it say, when it speaks to you?"

My eyes flicker at a sudden realization—he's not humoring me. Or being nice. No, these questions are specific—which means he knows something.

"Well, it mentioned something about..." I pause with one last consideration of whether to mention the seventh stone. "'The edge of creation.'"

He gazes at me thoughtfully for a moment, and his meaningful expression suddenly reminds me of Loki. Strange, because I've never had an acquaintance stare at me intently for so long—and so unabashedly, as these two have. Maybe it's actually normal, and 'Midgardians' are actually the awkward ones.

"I don't know if that means anything to you," my words trail off as I shrug, waving a hand—attempting to dispel my own awkwardness.

Ole peers at me carefully for a moment. "Lara," he says intently with a warm, yet solemn tone. "If I'm not mistaken... I do believe that you're already aware of what you just described to me."

Icy nervousness bursts through my limbs as I look up at him, and shake my head slowly—trying to hide the adverse reaction.

"The god stone," he says.

My eyes widen with a blink.

Silence ensues as Olen's eyes pass over me, and I'm almost positive that he's looking for some other response—some kind of demonstrable awe, or acknowledgment. I can tell by the meaningful depth in his expression, that he probably doesn't realize how comparably little this information means to me. I still don't know what it is, what it does, or most importantly—what I have to do with it.

"So... the 'god' stone..." my words trail slowly. "Is the seventh infinity stone?"

Olen nods incisively. "You should know, its existence is a secret—but it is the very thing that gifts this land with fertile life and soil," he gestures to the ground around us, and I glance up at the massive trees—got an answer I wasn't looking for. "And protects us."

I look back at him, tilting my head confusedly. "If it's a secret, why would you tell me that?"

"Well, why don't you come with me," he says, offering an arm. "I believe it'd be easier to answer that with a demonstration."  

[to be continued]