Novels2Search

Chapter 24

The rumbling of the engine of a motorcycle reverberated through the forest surrounding the stronghold in the mountains of Sokovia, its rider, clad in white combat gear and a mask over his face slowing to a stop, peering off into the mass of trees on one side of the road then the other. A black Jeep with an open top pulled up behind him, a similarly uniformed figure driving, another in the passenger seat. The man on the motorcycle made a hand signal to the driver of the vehicle, preparing to continue down the road when an arrow suddenly pierced his throat, he and the motorcycle falling over onto the road.

The occupants of the vehicle had little more opportunity to put up a defense as the next arrow found its mark, the driver’s body limply slumping as he was pinned through the heart to the driver’s seat. The passenger began to bail out of the vehicle as a large, round, metal object painted in concentric circles of red and white came whizzing through the air, making contact with his head, sending him sprawling onto the shoulder of the road.

Barton and Rogers, Rogers now clad in an updated version of his old uniform that Coulson had been sure to boast he had a hand in designing upon presenting it to him, moved from their hiding places behind two trees just within the border of the forest, cautiously approaching the vehicles and the downed men. Rogers headed in the direction of the motorcycle.

“Hey, why do you get the bike?” Barton asked.

“I’m the oldest,” Rogers replied with a smile, lifting the motorcycle from the road and climbing on, restarting its engine, Barton, shaking his head.

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“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Romanoff said to Banner who appeared reticent and nervous as both lay prone behind the trunk of a downed tree, Romanoff peering through a pair of binoculars at the four soldiers in white that stood atop the guard tower in the distance.

“When we get in there there’d better not be some little guy in a mushroom hat telling us the princess is in another castle,” Banner joked.

“They’re all yours,” Romanoff told Banner.

“Wish me luck,” Banner said as he rose from behind the log, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

“I don’t think you’re the one that’s going to need it,” Romanoff said as Banner stepped over the log, transitioning into the hulking green beast, with a monstrous roar taking off running in the direction of the guard tower.

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“What are we looking at Jarvis?” Stark asked as he soared over the landscape.

“There are eight bunkers positioned throughout the surrounding forest along with five watchtowers. The structure itself is shielded by a type of energy I am unable to identify.” the calm voice of Stark’s AI assistant informed him.

“Looks like we’ve got the right place. Find me a weak spot in that shield,” Stark ordered Jarvis as hordes of armed figures in white began to pour from out of the stronghold’s gate towards the forest in a mad frenzy, “Mr. Mischief did say he was sending an army, right?”

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The wounded Loki clutched the stones Verda had placed in his hand, willing their combined energy to flow through him. Even so, he could sense his mind drifting, his consciousness fading. He could no longer hold his eyelids open. His body began to feel lighter, as if he were floating in a pool or in the void of space.

“Go…” Loki told Verda, his voice barely audible.

An icy chill, similar to what he had experienced when he had placed his hands onto the Casket of Ancient Winters spread over his body. Verda did not respond as she continued to hold her palm against his forehead, deep in concentration, though Loki could no longer sense her touch.

Loki’s senses returned in a rush as he felt as if he was falling through the floor, what appeared to be patterns of stars streaking past in his vision behind his closed eyelids. It recalled to him what he had experienced after he had plummeted from the Rainbow Bridge, falling through space.

The stars faded, all again going black as the falling sensation ceased. Realizing that his strength had returned, his body once more imbued and flowing with life, he opened his eyes to see the stars were now above him, billions of them, as if he were lying under the night sky. Glancing to his left and right, he saw a rocky landscape, seemingly devoid of any life. Slowly setting up, he cautiously rose to his feet.

As his mind cleared, Loki realized, much to his horror, that he recognized the lifeless rock upon which he now found himself, though unsure whether it was real or an illusion. Sensing that he wasn’t alone, a presence behind him, he turned, fearful that who stood there was a being he had no desire to ever again lay eyes upon as each time Loki had previously encountered his grotesque, partially masked and obscured visage, had heard his raspy voice, it had sent a cold shudder down his spine. He was surprised and relieved to see another whose appearance was far more pleasant.

“Are you a servant of Thanos?” Loki asked the woman with the long white hair that extended almost to her feet, her skin the lightest shade of ivory, the color of her eyelashes matching that of her hair.

“I am Skula.”

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“The Norn, you are one of the three sisters?”

“Yes, it is I.”

“Why have you brought me to this place?”

“You have brought yourself here,” Skula stated, Loki once again looking over the dreary landscape.

“I suppose I did,” Loki said, recalling all that had passed, the choices he had made over his lifetime that had led him to that place, “You come to herald my fate? Am I dead?” Loki asked.

“Not in this universe. There are many. Yet in each it holds true that you are a man of contradictions, capable of the greatest depths of love and hate, loyalty and betrayal in equal measure. I knew upon your birth that you would be unique, that you would follow a singular path. The time has come for you to make a choice.”

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Thor prepared to hurl Stormbreaker at the masked soldier in white that sprinted towards him spraying bullets in his direction but before he could release the axe the deadly accurate aim of Barton’s arrow felled him. Thor, continuing to hold his weapon defensively as he looked to his right, watched Barton exit his commandeered vehicle and enter the small clearing in the forest.

“Barton, my old friend!” Thor called in greeting as Barton went to retrieve his arrow, Barton turning and raising his bow, another arrow already notched. Thor was puzzled for a moment at Barton’s reaction before recalling that in this timeline the two had never met.

“Do I know you?” Barton asked as he studied the God of Thunder before lowering his bow, “You’re a friendly? Asgardian?”

“Yes…” Thor answered as Barton approached him.

“I thought Loki was sending an army. We’re gonna need more than Paul Bunyon,” Barton said, eyeing the axe in Thor’s grip.

“They await word of Verda’s rescue-”

“Thor?!” both Barton and Thor heard Verda’s voice speak in a tone of shock as both men turned in the direction from which it had originated, “How….where’s Loki?”

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Loki once again raised his eyelids, blinking a few times as everything appeared a dark blur for a few moments before his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the dungeon. Verda removed her hand from his forehead before he sat up, looking down at his abdomen, raising his bloody shirt and placing his hand in the location of the wound of which there was now no evidence before looking up at Verda. She smiled wordlessly before he placed a hand on either side of her head, kissing her forehead in enthusiastic gratitude.

Loki then realized how pale she appeared, dark purplish black circles under both of her eyes as if she hadn’t slept for a month. They closed, her body slumping forward, Loki catching her and laying her gently on the stone floor.

“Verda? Verda!” Loki said, attempting to rouse her without success.

Checking for a pulse, he discerned one, though it was troublingly weak. He reached for the leather bag, placing the stones in his hand back into it and magically stowed it away before he stood, hoisting her limp body in his arms.

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The ground of the forest trembled to the rear of Thor and Barton as the Bifrost descended upon it, Sif running from it towards the men.

“Thor!” she called out.

Sif stopped as she reached the two men, her eyes locking with Lorelei’s in her disguise as Verda.

“That is not Verda. You must go...you must not be anywhere where you can hear her voice,” Sif quietly told Thor and Barton.

Barton tapped Thor on the arm before gesturing for him to follow, Thor hesitating.

“I will deal with her,” Sif said to Thor, he finally turning to follow Barton as Sif stepped towards Lorelei, sword in hand.

“Sif…” Lorelei, now convinced the jig was up, transformed back into her own form, producing her own sword, “You must give my regards to Haldor.”

“She’s on the field,” Barton said as he and Thor made their way to the vehicle parked by the side of the road, communicating with the others.

“She’s not the only one!” Rogers said as he skidded the motorcycle to a stop, a throng of white clad soldiers maniacally running towards him. He looked to his right and left, a sea of white entering the forest before turning the motorcycle around and racing away from the advancing hoard.

Romanoff listened to the conversation as she witnessed Hulk demolishing a bunker, tossing occupants against trees and grabbing others by their legs, smashing them repeatedly against the ground. Emitting a deafening roar, Hulk bounded off, Romanoff trailing behind.

“Hey! Wait up!” she called out as she attempted in vain to catch up to him.

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Loki emerged from the empty bunker in the forest which served as a secret entrance and exit of the tunnel that connected with the underground portion of the stronghold, Verda in his arms.

“Heimdall, bring us home!”

The Loki standing near Heimdall in Himinbjorg looked over at Asgard’s gatekeeper as he heard the sound of his own voice. Heimdall turned his head, his eyes meeting his king’s as Loki nodded.

Loki watched as his double, Verda in his arms, emerged from the rainbow of blinding light, Loki upon seeing Verda’s state rushing forward, his double transferring Verda from his arms to that of his doppelganger.

“Take him to the dungeon,” Loki commanded an einherjar guard, the guard stepping forward.

“Wait…” Loki’s other said as he held out his hand.

The einherjar who had been reaching for a pair of shackles drew his sword. Within Loki’s outstretched palm, the leather pouch containing the Norn Stones appeared. Heimdall stepped forward taking them from him. Loki nodded to the einherjar who placed his sword back into its sheath and shackled Loki’s double, leading him away toward the exit and the Rainbow Bridge. The warriors waiting on the bridge began to make a path at the same time as those farther back also began to part.

“My son…”

Both Lokis stood in silence as Odin entered Himinbjorg, Frigga following behind him. The einherjar, his hand closed around Loki’s double’s bicep, bowed his head before leading Loki’s double past them.

“Father...mother...” Loki’s double said.

Odin approached Loki as the God of Mischief gazed forlornly down at Verda in his arms.

“She said she would give her life...” said Loki mournfully.

“She has drained her life force. She must rest as I have done,” Odin said, motioning for the other einherjar present to approach, Loki transferring Verda into his arms, “I will watch over her. Go, my son.”

“My duty is here. I must safeguard the throne.”

“The throne is safe enough. Your place is by the side of your warriors defending Asgard and the realms.”

“If I do not return?” Loki asked Odin, recalling Verda had asked the same question of him.

“She has proven herself more than worthy.”

“She does not wish it,” Loki told him.

“No one who is truly worthy does,” Odin told him.

Odin turned from Loki, the einherjar bearing Verda’s body following behind him as Frigga approached Loki.

“I will remain here and await your return.”

Loki looked at his mother, at her tired, careworn face.

“You must rest as well.”

“I cannot and will not until she who took your brother’s life is no more.”

Loki embraced Frigga before stepping away from her, gesturing for the warriors assembled on the Rainbow Bridge to follow him. As they did so, he stepped to the Bifrost with a determined expression, preparing and steadying himself, producing a dagger in each hand, tossing them and catching them as Heimdall activated the Bifrost.

“Nor shall we mourn but rejoice for those who have died the glorious death...”