Calaes hurried through the dark, rough-hewn stone of the Gateway Hall, passing endless rows of doors that led away from Blackwolf Manor. At her back was a retreating pinprick of light and echoes of voices from a terminus marked ‘Reception’, gone completely as Calaes took a sharp turn. Descending a flight of stairs while a deep howl of wind from below kicked up the hem of her tunic, she hit the bottom of the steep flight. The cavernous hallway led her to a massive set of metal doors, carved with scenes of a fierce battle. She shoved a smaller inset door open and slipped through, ignoring a pair of small, leathery demons that were maintaining the furnaces. They tried to catch her attention like small children, chattering away in a demonic tongue, only to be waved off by the goddess who finally stopped to root through the shelves and barrels of weapons that were waiting for repairs.
“Ukobach, did anyone come for a pickup while I was gone?”
Ukobach turned to Xaphan in a mild panic, both shaking their heads. They scampered in under Calaes, pulling at tags on the various swords, maces, and shields, showing her they jobs they had completed. Nothing had left the forge since she had.
Cales looked over to a large circular calendar carved into the far wall, covered in small parchment notes that were adhered to the stone by a thick dot of wax. A small curse escaped her lips. “That was last week.”
She finally turned to address her apprentices. “Thank you for keeping the fires lit. I need to head back out — Xaphan, if anyone comes to pick up a completed order, make sure they have their ticket.”
Xaphan threw his hands up in confusion, pointing at a pile of jobs that still needed work. Rusted blades and dry rotting handles did the reapers no favours.
“I know, but they’ve waited this long.” Calaes shrugged, exchanging her leather apron for a fur-trimmed capuchin cloak. “What’s a few more days?”
Both demons offered her unimpressed glares.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“If someone complains, point them to the whetstones and let them do it themselves.” Calaes said. “Not that they would do any damage. Most of these blades couldn’t cut warm butter.”
Ukobach gathered a handful of her cloak, leaving sooty fingerprints on it as he pouted at her.
“Don’t worry.” Calaes scratched behind his ear. “When I come back, things will get a lot more exciting.”
Calaes ducked back out of the small door, heading the opposite way she’d came. At the top of the stairs, a long hallway that spiralled back on itself crawled upward, leading her past bright glass-paned doors that offered a familiar comfort in their stark contrast to the darkness of the Gateway Hall. Passing a small kitchenette she paused, recognizing a shock of red hair that sunk onto a couch with their back to the door.
“There you are!”
Loki froze, a fresh monte cristo inches from his mouth. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”
“No, I don’t care about-” Calaes dismissed her mild confusion, marching into the room and grabbing his arm. “Whatever. I need your help.”
“Can I finish my sandwich first?” Loki jerked back, leaning away from her and holding up his food as a shield.
She grabbed for him again, jerking her head at the door. “Take it with you. I need you to get me into Valhalla.”
He started eating, eyeing her with suspicion. Around a bite, he mumbled, “you can get in by yourself.”
“I have to ask a favour of Thor.” Calaes perched on the couch’s arm. “If I go alone, he’ll say no. If you come with me, I have a larger margin for success.”
“What do you want from him?” Loki reached for his beer.
She paused, turning several explanations over in her mind while trying to choose the one that sounded the least insane. After a moment, she tilted her head, smiling.
“What am I doing? If anyone is going to understand, it’s you. I need you to help me convince Thor to loan Mjolnir to me so I can summon enough lightning to charge a sentient mechanical automaton from a planet a billion miles away from here that is currently laying in a box of spare parts at Felicia’s house.”
Loki finished his sandwich, brushed off his hands, and rose to put his dishes in the sink.
“Yeah, all right. Let’s go.”