Herbie Brennan - Faerie Lord

‘Of course not,’ said the clown. He bowed, elaborately, ‘I am a simple entertainer, as you can see.’

There’s nothing simple about you, Blue thought, with feeling. What she needed now, more than anything else, was information. She needed to find an edge, otherwise she was stuck here, lost to Henry and the Realm, with… with what? A suspicion was beginning to form in her mind, but until she found out exactly what was happening here, she could never take control. A step at a time, she thought. A step at a time. Aloud she said, ‘I mean, you weren’t the charno who came with me from the monastery. You just took the shape of a charno when you were following me in the caves.’

The clown clapped his hands in mocking applause. ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘And well done for realising you must find out what is happening here. Most people never reach that stage and then I have to kill them.’

Blue noted the threat, but ignored it. Her suspicion was strengthening. She’d had one brush with the Old Gods already. This clown creature looked nothing like the monstrous Yidam (who’d liked her, remember, so all might not be lost), but he had something of the same feel. She looked him up and down. ‘That isn’t your real form either, is it?’

He applauded again, indeed not. This appearance is just symbolic of my nature.’

For some reason it felt important to see what lay behind the fagade. ‘Will you show me what you really look like?’ she asked without much hope.

To her astonishment he changed at once, transforming into a strikingly handsome young man. ‘Of course,’ he said. He turned round slowly, like a preening peacock. His looks were amazing, but there was something more than that – an aura about him that was almost tangible

… and hugely, physically, attractive. As he completed the turn, he looked directly into her eyes and grinned. ‘Do you fancy me?’ he asked.

Blue felt the breath catch in her throat and a sudden tightness grip her chest. She would die rather than admit it, but the truth was she did fancy him – a lot. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, dark-haired, dark-eyed and that grin was so mischievous, so… dangerous. He was a man you’d have to reform, but until you did… ah, what a wild ride it would be!

She tore her eyes away and at once there was a different image in her mind. Henry. Henry wasn’t handsome – not that handsome anyway, hardly handsome at all really. And Henry didn’t have that irresistible hint of danger hanging round him. But Henry, for all he irritated her at times, was brave and kind and sensitive and caring and she’d loved him for years. Now she was no longer looking at this godling from the Old Time, his emotional impact waned quickly. Ignoring his question, Blue searched her memory for something the Purlisa had said, then asked one of her own. ‘You’re Loki, aren’t you?’

For an instant he looked genuinely surprised, even taken aback. Then he rallied to give another of his extravagant bows. ‘At your service, Lady. How did you know my name?’

Blue said, ‘You’re famous.’ It came out without hesitation, driven by an instinct that he’d be flattered.

One look at his face confirmed the instinct was correct. He smiled at her and it was no longer the mischievous grin, but a broad, open smile of pleasure. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘nice to know some of us are still remembered.’

She drew breath to lay on a little more judicious flattery, some lie about how greatly he was revered throughout the Realm, then stopped. Don’t overdo it, a voice warned in her head. He might look young and attractive, but he was not at all what he seemed. And the Old Gods were dangerous, all of them. So far she’d been lucky in her dealings with the two she’d met, but it would be madness to push her luck. Besides, she wasn’t just dealing with Loki. She was held captive by the Midgard Serpent.

The serpent could wait. She had to concentrate on Loki. And stop looking at him like that, she told herself crossly. Think of Henry, if it helps. She forced a conversational tone into her voice. ‘How do you do it?’ she asked. ‘Change from charno to clown to beautif-to what you are now. Is it illusion magic?’

Loki shook his head, ‘I’m a shape-shifter. It’s a talent I’ve had from birth.’

‘Do all the Old Gods have it?’

‘Just me.’ He tilted his head to one side and half turned it as if listening, but made no further comment.

Get down to it, Blue’s instinct told her. As casually as she could manage, she said, ‘Why don’t you have your creature put me down and we can talk about what it is you want of me?’

With no particular expression, Loki said, ‘He’s not my creature – he’s my son.’

Blue could have kicked herself. She’d known the beast was his son. The Purlisa had mentioned it in his exposition of the myth. The trouble was the myth was so incredible. Almost impossible to get your head around the reality when you met up with it. In an attempt to recover, she asked quickly, ‘What’s his name?’

At least it seemed Loki had failed to take offence, for he answered calmly enough. ‘His name is Jormungand.’ He swung his eyes slowly over the vast, incredible bulk of the Midgard Serpent and added, almost with a hint of awe, ‘And you tried to kill him.’

This is not going well, Blue thought. She coughed slightly. ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that. Very sorry, really.’ Then something occurred to her and she said quickly, ‘Somebody told me only hammers could harm him.’

‘Yes, they do say that, don’t they?’ Loki nodded.

His expression was unreadable. When it became clear he was not going to say anything more, Blue forced a smile and said cheerily, ‘Well, my little knife doesn’t seem to have harmed him.’

‘Perhaps luckily,’ Loki remarked enigmatically.

It was like the underground passageways – some of them were dead ends. Loki hadn’t told his astonishing son to release her and the serpent hadn’t done it of its own accord. There was no chance, as she’d hoped, of her scuttling away like a mouse, hiding or escaping. But then she wasn’t sure she wanted to escape, not yet, is Henry here?’ she asked. It did not for an instant cross her mind that Loki might not know who Henry was.

‘Not yet,’ Loki said.

Not… yet?

For the first time it occurred to Blue she might be dreaming. This whole encounter had a dreamlike quality about it. Mythic figures… overwhelming dangers that somehow failed to harm her… the idea that Henry was not here but possibly soon would be… Was she actually asleep in her chamber in the Purple Palace?

If she was, the realisation didn’t help her waken. Besides, for all its strangeness, this didn’t feel like a dream.

Although she desperately wanted to ask more about Henry, some instinct told her she might be looking in the wrong direction. If she was to get out of this mess, she needed to know what she was dealing with. She took a deep breath and asked the critical question. ‘Why have you come to this reality?’

She knew, positively knew, she was on the right track. There was a change in the atmosphere of the cavern. Loki’s head swung round to stare at her intently. Even the great serpent shifted slightly, loosening its coils – although not enough for her to wriggle free.

Loki looked away from her again. ‘My little boy came because he was called,’ he said casually.

‘By Brimstone?’

‘Silas – yes. Such a dangerous thing to do, don’t you think? But Silas paid the price.’

Blue said cautiously, ‘So it wasn’t a cloud dancer?’

Loki smiled. ‘Oh, it was a cloud dancer, all right. Poetic justice, I imagine.’

She wanted to ask a lot more about that as well, but she had a feeling he was trying to divert her. ‘And why are you here?’ she asked.