Ep 14: Mr. Babbington

Ratatosk scurried up the gnarled back as fast as his sharp claws would take him. Occasionally he’d pause and cock his head as if thinking, “Did I drop off the rent cheque.” Being a squirrel, however, rent cheques weren’t a concern and thus decided, he’d break into a run again, until he was simply a blur of red fur on the world tree, Ygdrassil.  He was going to insult Eagle today. That was his job. There was a constant war between the eagle roosting in the top branches of Ygdrassil, and the dragon eating the roots at the bottom. The two had never met, and each would probably have ignored the other if not for Ratatosk.  It was his job to run insults from one to the other. It had been fun at first, but the eagle and the dragon were sadly unimaginative when it came to hurling slurs. After nearly 3,000 years, it was getting old.

Currently they were stuck on “stupid head.” Ratatosk was about to deliver (for the 6,782,411^th time) the message, “no YOU’RE a stupid head” from the dragon.

On his various trips he saw things; things on Earth and things above and beneath it. And for Ratatosk, seeing was saying. It was impossible for him to think anything without saying it aloud. He’d scramble over root and twig uttering a constant babble of chatter. This, supposedly, was the beginning of rumours.

One month ago he’d seen something interesting, and had run on his trip downward muttering,

“Well, well, welly, well! Loki’s third son is on earth now! He broke out of Hel ages ago and has finally made it to Earth. He’s looking for The Chaos! I wonder what that will mean. I wonder if he knows what it would mean. “

A large clawed hand had snatched him off the bark and brought his twitching nose up to a hair face.

“What was that about my brother,” growled Fenrir.

Now, a month later, Ratatosk saw something else that made him chatter incessantly to himself.

“Loki’s fourth son is coming to Earth! Well well well!”

Ratatosk is one of the reasons why humans only just tolerate squirrels.

***********

“Are we ready?” asked Lor.

“Soon,” sighed Thoki. He hated this.

He’d been pondering  plots and plans all afternoon. Getting to the Obelisk would be tricky a second time, and this time Hermes and Goodfellow would be waiting for him (possibly with back up). Everything had jumped into his mind from disguises to distractions, to a zip-line suspended from minarets, but they all fizzled. Sadly “Lor running up and hitting people” was the strongest plan and the others didn’t even come close.

Thus resolved, they decided to wait for the cover of night. People might be assholes, or the gods might be invisible, but jailtime sucked and witnesses weren’t wanted.  Besides, he liked the night. Night was cooler, quieter, more intimate. It also didn’t make his face a livid lobster red (like it currently was). A break from UV bombardment would be nice too.

He’d stolen a new set of clothes (before his current outfit disintegrated entirely). They were a pair of new black jeans, and a white cotton tunic shirt. It was a cheesy souvenir “dress like a native” shirt, but Thoki felt comfortable with it. The style and the length felt like home, even if it smelled of baked air and SPF 50 (another “investment” of his). A leather belt in the middle and a new pair of shoes and he suddenly felt like a million dollars. All that was left as the sun sank was to keep the butterflies in his stomach down.

He started humming under his breath to keep his nerves under control. Most people would hum a classic tune like “Ride of the Valkyries.” Thoki didn’t see the point of that one. For one thing, Valkyries had simpler tastes in music, Wagner being seen by them as a blow-hard. Thoki’s mother, Sigunn had been a close friend of the Valkyrie Olrun and he knew for a FACT that the large woman’s favorite song was “Hey Mickey” by Toni Basil.

That was something that worried Thoki. The Valkyries were singing “Hey, Mickey you’re so fine. You’re so fine you blow my mind,” thousands of years before Toni Basil was even a zygote. The gods were playing baseball before America was colonized by white man. How was it that time seemed to bubble like that in the immortal plane? It was as if the gods existed for eons, while at the same time existing in the present and centuries into the future at the same time. Odin had only looked about fifty years old, while at the same time, he had been fifty for eternity, BUT (and this was the part that made his head ache) at the same time he’d lived for centuries for only fifty years.

Thoki shook his head to relieve the buzzing sensation of time-space theory trying to wrap itself around his brain.

Eventually he decided to hum something more his style under his breath:

“No more, Mr. Nice Guy… No more Mr. Cleeeeeean…”

“We ready now, Thoki?” asked Lor.

Thoki checked the window of the abandoned flat they were squatting in, the sun was now a thin line of pink icing on the cityscape and the white moon graced the sky like a careless watermark.

“Yeah, let’s go,” sighed Thoki, his bravado deflating.

***

He didn’t know why he thought the Obelisk would be unguarded. It wasn’t a real thought with any sense behind it. It would have been down-right stupid to expect it, but never-the-less upon seeing the two figures on the steps to the landmark, Thoki moaned.

“Crap.”

“I’ll take care of it,” said Lor comfortingly. Without another word, he wrapped a meaty hand around Thoki’s torso and lifted the little man bodily off of the ground. Thoki winced at the tight grip but let Lor place him carefully on the giant’s meaty shoulders. He shifted his legs so that they dangled on each side Lor’s neck and got a grip on the ginger curls that rose chest high on him.

“All buckled up?” asked Lor.

“Yep,” answered Thoki in a thin voice.

The walked past the ornamental trees to the large pavement square, where the Obelisk loomed darkly in the night sky. Two figures stood in the moonlight. Hermes and Goodfellow were sitting on the dais steps as calmly as if they were waiting for a ride. It appeared there was no one else waiting with them.

This made Thoki insanely worried.

Lor had wiped the floor with those two tricksters without even breaking a sweat. Did Hermes and Goodfellow honestly think they could best the giant after that first encounter … or did they have something up their sleeves?

Thoki’s palm connected with his forehead. “Of course they’ve got something up their sleeves. They’re tricksters. It’s like asking if a novelist has a liquor cabinet,” he muttered.

Lor lumbered close enough to see the starshine in the tricksters’ eyes and Thoki decided to break the silence.

“Ill met by moonlight, jackasses,” he pronounced.

Robin Goodfellow shot him a dirty look.

“Thoki we need you to drop this stupid obsession of yours,” said Hermes.

“Nothing doing!” spat Thoki.

“I thought as much,” sighed Hermes. Thoki noticed the Greek’s hands were resolutely behind his back. Did he have a gun? “You give us no choice then,” sighed Hermes.

“Ah, hell. Lor, crush his head,” said Thoki.

“Okay,” said Lor reaching forward.

That was when Hermes’ hand whipped out from behind his back. Thoki flinched and even Lor stopped in his tracks.  Both awaited the blinding pain of bullets ripping through their skin… but it never came. Looking up, Thoki saw that instead of something shiny, metal and lethal, Hermes instead was holding something very different.

For one thing, it was fuzzy. Squinting in the dim light, Thoki made out something pale and fluffy and with two winking glass eyes.

“Is that a toy pig?” asked Thoki, nonplussed.

“Yes,” said Hermes  in a musical voice, directed at Lor. “Do you like the pig?”

“Yes,” said Lor.

Thoki craned his neck to the side to catch Lor’s reaction. To his horror, the giant’s currant eyes were wide and shining. They were fixed squarely on the pig in an expression of rapt enchantment.

“Oh crap,” choked Thoki.

“What do you think his name is?” Hermes asked Lor in the same jolly musical voice of a Kindergarten teacher.

“Mr. Babbington?” asked Lor.

There was only a slight pause as Hermes’ brain restarted. He’d obviously been anticipating an answer like Hammy or Sir Oinks-a-lot. “Yes, that’s right!” he answered. Hermes squeezed the pig’s tummy and it emitted a few darling squeaks.

“What’s that Mr. Babbington?” he asked the toy in dead earnest. He pretended to listen as more squeaks echoed off the concrete and were swallowed by the night.

“What’s he saying?” asked Lor in awe.

 “He says he likes you, Lor! He says he wants to go home with you!”

Lor let loose a whimper of impatience. “Can I hold him?” asked Lor with longing, his sausage fingers inching shyly towards the pig.

Hermes deftly stepped out of his reach. “Mr. Babbington would like that very much, but he needs you to do something first.”

“What’s that?” asked Lor hungrily. Thoki’s stomach turned to ice.

“He needs you to put your friend, Thoki down,” said Hermes.

Ep. 13 Gods in the Marketplace

Feeling much better, Thoki began to walk towards the obelisk. As his stride drew him closer and closer to his target, his pace quickened. He debated briefly whether he should go back and wait outside the toilets for Lor, but his impatience gnawed at him. Lor was always so slow. Anyways, it’s not like the big ox would be able to decipher the worn glyphs on the obelisk anyway. He had trouble with “Harold and the Purple Crayon,” for crap’s sake.  Then again — and this made Thoki pause midstride — Lor did have those rare moments of perspicacity at the oddest of moments.

Thoki shrugged and kept walking. It was only a short jog to the obelisk; Lor would catch up. And this way Thoki could spend his time reading the obelisk instead of reading the graffiti on the bathroom walls.

As the red sandstone column loomed ahead, Thoki’s heart beat faster and faster. He could hear his own pulse whooshing in his ears and making his head throb as his fingers twitched and his body perspired. The anticipation and emotional tide was similar to his recent encounter with Eris and the memory brought a grim smirk to his face, but he pressed on, his feet pounding the sidewalk with more vigor.

He was running at a full tilt now, knocking aside civilians, tourists and vendors as he jogged towards his goal. Against the blue sky, the pink rock looked like a red tower of blood, and his pace slowed as he drew within arm’s length. There he was forced to pause.

 The monument’s primordial decoration was protected from the slack-jawed looky-lous by barriers and a park ranger. An actual park-freaking-ranger, like people came around every day to touch the stone that was older than the first Pharaoh.

The nerve of some people, thought Thoki as he stood weighing his options as to how best to get closer.  He rubbed his bare chin until it irritated his sunburn and he winced at the fiery, prickly sensation.

“You could use some aloe on that,” came a voice over his shoulder.

Thoki, lost in thought, turned absently to see who it was. It was a familiar ham-faced man with a shaved head. Robin Goodfellow was standing behind him in jeans and a Pink Floyd “The Wall” shirt with the arms torn off. He gave Thoki a broad grin, showing off his chipped tooth and in a congenial voice said:

“Alloh, sunshine.”

The blood drained from Thoki’s blistered face as he backed away into a pair of cologne-scented but very strong arms. Hermes had crept up from behind and he grabbed Thoki in a headlock. Thoki only got a brief glimpse of the Greek, but the messenger god’s sculpted nose was looking a little bent and his lip was swollen. Instead of Hermes’s shiny silks he had traded down to a polo shirt and white pants. There was dirty work to do, obviously, and Versache had no place here.

“HELP!” cried Thoki — or he tried to anyway, but nothing was coming out. He was too scared to shout — the two tricksters had him by the short hairs.  Instead his mouth flapped open and closed a few times like a mute ventriloquist’s dummy.

“You left our little party before we finished it,” said Hermes’s velvet voice in his ear. “That wasn’t very nice, considering that you were the guest of honor.”

“-----!” said Thoki, still gasping for words.

“Sorry, Thoki,” said Goodfellow in his less-than-melodious East-Ender tones. “But we can’t let you do this, see?”

“You might seek the destruction of the world, but some of us are living quite happily in it,” said Hermes.

“ So’s we figure that if’n we lock you up, you can’t find the Chaos, right? Problem solved. Happy ending,” said Goodfellow. He gave Thoki a sympathetic grin.

“How’s it a happy ending if I’m locked up?” Thoki finally managed.

Puck’s grin faded a little into a pitying expression. “Werlll, I din’ say it’d be happy for everyone did I?”

And with that, Hermes began to frog-march Thoki out of the park and into the high-street.

Thoki tried to look around, as much as the half-nelson he was in would let him. No one seemed to notice the young Nordic man being carried off by two thugs. In fact, it seemed that no one saw them at all.

“Hello! Guy being kidnapped!” shouted Thoki. Hermes kneed him in the kidneys for that attempt. One or two civillians blinked and looked confused, but otherwise let them pass unnoticed.

“What’s going on? Why don’t they see us?”  asked Thoki.

There was a pause as Goodfellow glanced at Hermes in uncertainty before  looking back at Thoki.

“They don’t see us because they don’t want to,” said Goodfellow.

“To them we don’t exist,” said Hermes bitterly. “Hermes is the name of a scarf company or that little man on the FTD florist’s logo. Puck is a beloved character in a Shakespeare play or a small black coin flicked around a hockey arena.”

“I don’t think that last example is right,” said Goodfellow weakly but Hermes paid him no notice.

“To them the gods are dead, even as their memory floats around this city like clouds of incense.  Look at that souvenir table,” spat Hermes as they passed a merchant’s table full of Cairo-themed memorabilia.

“You have Anubis T-shirts, and wallets, and coffee mugs, but who among these God-fearing Muslims, Jews and Christians would ever think that a Jackal-headed God walks among them.

“Does he?” asked Thoki in awe.

“Don’t be stupid,” hissed Hermes in irritation. Thoki breathed a little.

“Anubis hates crowds,” said Goodfellow, jumping in.  “He waits until nightfall.”

“The POINT is…” snapped Hermes in irritation, “… that even if he was walking down this very street with a tennis ball in his mouth, none of these people would see him. To them, he is a dead god of an ancient race.”

“But why don’t they see me? I’m not a god,” asked Thoki quietly.

“Because you’re appallingly average and forgettable,” said Hermes coldly.

“Oh,” said Thoki feeling ill.

Hermes then felt a tap on his shoulder. Keeping a firm grip on Thoki’s neck, Hermes turned his sculpted head. The god’s face was promptly enveloped in a bushy ginger beard.

Thoki caught sight of Goodfellow going pale before he felt the grip on his neck lessen. Looking around, he saw Lor standing idly and dangling a struggling Hermes by his neck.

“I should very much like my friend back,” said Lor to Goodfellow. His voice was mild enough, but there was a fire in his piggy eyes that made even Thoki nervous.

“Oh bugger,” gasped Goodfellow before a fist the size of a butt roast came roaring at him with the force of a freight train. The blow hit him squarely on the jaw and sent Goodfellow flying into the table of “Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra”-themed merchandise. He tried righting himself, only to have Hermes’s body land on top of him, collapsing the flimsy card table.

If there was any question of whether people could see them now, it was rescinded. What the stand owner saw was a punk kid with a lot of tattoos and his rich boyfriend sitting on his ruined stock.

“I guess people can see gods, when they make themselves known,” laughed Thoki as the vendor cursed at the groaning tricksters. “Those stupid blowhards. People don’t see kidnappers and beatings because people are assholes. It’s not because of godly powers,” he scoffed.

“I think there was another god of legend who made a lot of fuss in a marketplace once. Turned a lot of tables over and shouted.”

“Yeah, that was you… just now” said Thoki, who wasn’t a biblical scholar.

“Oh yeah,” said Lor, who had forgotten what they were talking about. In those situations it was always best to agree with Thoki. Thoki knew what was going on.

“C’mon,” said Thoki in agitation. “Before they get to their feet, we need to hide and figure out a plan to get at that Obelisk.” He pulled Lor through the crowd until they melted into it again.

The sky was turning a charcoal grey, and the oven-like air was now a cold biting wind that smelled of tin, and, to the well-trained nose… like impending snowfall.

Ep. 12 Ancient History

Preface: Thoki has tricked his brother, Jormungandr the world Serpent into taking him and Lor to Egypt. They are now searching Heliopolis (Now part of Cairo) for evidence of ISFAT, the ancient chaos that existed before order. Thoki hopes to use this chaos to rule the world.

Lor is a Frost Giant. He wants to know if Paddington Bear is related to Rupert Bear.

When the menfolk came to Loki’s house, they were ready. Frey and Tyr were first in the door as Sigun quietly let them in. Thoki and his brothers jumped to their feet, each one stepping protectively in front of Hel. There was hushed conversation at the entry between Sigunn and the men, while the boys shook and sweat in anxiety. Fenrir was stronger than a fully grown Aesir, but he couldn’t best an entire hoarde of them. He was only sixteen at that, and while full of adolescent fire, he hadn’t quite quelled his fear of his elders. Jormungandr looked even less certain and his slight frame shivered at the sight of the warriors in full battle-garb. Hel remained seated, her expression resigned. What was to happen would happen. Despite her composure, however, her eyes looked large and scared, and Thoki grasped her hand and squeezed it.

Loki sat in his chair by the fire, smoking his pipe as calmly as if nothing was wrong. Only the slightest twitch of a smile in the corner of his mouth betrayed him. The fire-god’s eyes burned brightly in the dim room and he regarded his brood thoughtfully.

“Loki,” said Frey from the doorway.

“You forgot to say ‘bless all here,’ when you entered, Frey,” said Loki airily. “I’m shocked.”

“You know why we’re here,” said Frey.

“I know. I also know that you had to wait until Thor was away to do it. Didn’t want the lummox to queer the deal, huh?”

Frey didn’t answer. “Your spawn are to come with us.”

Loki caught Fenrir’s worried expression and gave him the slightest smile. Fenrir was his father’s golden boy (or golden retriever anyway).

“If it is Odin’s will, I have no choice,” said Loki, rising. He sighed theatrically, “… but you have to fetch them yourselves. I’m not the sort of father to just give his children away.”

Frey nodded. “I would have thought less of you if you were.”

Loki’s charming smile flickered and his voice became harsh. “Your opinion of me can’t get any lower, Frey. Let’s skip the pretense …from one outsider to another.”

Frey nodded. “As you wish.”

“Yeah, whatever,” grumbled Loki before turning to his sons. “Boys, we have some guests who have waived the rights of hospitality. Go greet them, won’t you?”

“You Jotun are coming with us,” snarled Heimdall.

“Fat chance!” cried Thoki, raising his fists in (what he hoped) was a threatening stance.

Unexpectedly, the room went silent as everyone — Aesir, Vanyr and Jotun alike stared at Thoki.

“Whattaya think you’re doin?” demanded Fenrir.

“I’m… not going with them either,” said Thoki uncertainly. “I’ll stand and fight with you rather than go quietly.”

“Go away, wiener,” hissed Jormungandr. “You’ll only get in the way.”

“Yeah, beat it, ass!” snarled Fenrir. “We’re busy protecting our sister.” The emphasis on “our” made Thoki shrink. He risked a glance back at Hel who shook her head sadly.

“What you just want me to give up?” Thoki asked.

“Boy,” came a kind voice over his shoulder. Thoki spun around to find himself staring up at the dashing Frey. The Vanyr was sporting a bemused expression. “Go back to your mother, young man. We do not want you.”

“You heard them,” said Loki, and Thoki turned to look at his father. “No one wants you. Go back to your whimpering dishrag of a mother and try on her apron. These men are after my sons and daughter, not a pale little mistake like you.”

“But…” said Thoki, his fists finally falling at his side as hot tears ran down his face.

“Go,” said Hel quietly.

Thoki ran.

******************

The city of Heliopolis is one of the oldest cities in recorded history. It pre-dated the Pharoahs, and probably pre-dated pre-dating, for that matter. It was built upon, time and time again as it became part of the Old Kingdom, and then the New Kingdom of Egypt. It had sheltered Joseph, Moses, and (according to legend) the infant Jesus Christ and his Virgin Mother.  The Egyptians, Jews and Greeks had given in many names that all meant “City of the Sun,” but its newest name, Al-Matariyyah “The Mother”, reflected this last legend.

“It all comes back to the stinkin’ Bible,” snorted Thoki as he rubbed his sunburned nose in annoyance.

 Thoki and Lor. were wending their way through the dense shopping district in what was now just another district of Cairo. Here vendors tried to sell him freshly-cooked lamb, knock-off Prada bags and Bootleg DVDs of the newest Harry Potter movie.

Like Lor, Thoki’s passing from immortality to death to the mortal plane had unlocked a few secrets of The Universe, and one was the understanding that all languages were basically the same (on a primordial level.) This gave him the ability to say “No thanks,” to all the vendors and brush them aside, with an occasional, “For the LAST TIME, NO! GET BENT!”

“What’re we looking for?” asked Lor.

“We’ll know it when we see it,” said Thoki. He didn’t want to admit that he had no idea what they were looking for. Everything had changed so much since his last visit to Cairo which had been pitifully limited.

He’d once taken a school trip to Egypt in his childhood with the other young Aesir. They were in Cairo for all of 4 hours and one of those hours he had spent LOST, having wandered off from the tour.

Of course, it was all different now, even if he could remember what it had been like. For one thing there was glass in the windows instead of people. Cars crawled at a sluggish pace through the congested streets instead of chariots. There were tall minarets where once there had been animal headed statuary. There were ATMs where there once were flatulent cattle staring madly at you. Such drastic change was unnerving.  It was a bit like when he visited Scandinavia again for the first time in over a millennium and discovered that it was now 3 countries.

“Is that what we’re looking for?”  asked Lor.

“No, Lor. That’s a kebab stand,” said Thoki.

“Is that it?” asked Lor.

“No, that’s a parking metre.”

“That it?”

“That’s a crate of oranges.”

“That?”

“Lamp post.”

“This is hard,” said Lor with a grimace.

“Yeah-huh,” said Thoki absently while trying to shade his face with his forearm.

He looked a wreck these days. His hoodie was torn and stained, what was left of his tee-shirt was a mess of punctured cotton that was too thin for dust rags. His jeans were now so dirty and coated with grime that they wouldn’t absorb water — it just beaded and rolled off. The cuffs had worn off a few hundred miles ago and long strings of frayed denim trailed over his cheap canvas trainers that were practically sandals they had so many holes. Lor looked like he always did:  politely confused. Still even his meticulous plodding couldn’t save his larger supply of clothes from wrinkles and moth-holes. In his dockers and extra-wide-neck polo, he looked like a telemarketer on holiday. The sun also didn’t seem to bother Lor. While Thoki’s pale Nordic skin (currently a bright crimson) was suffering under the intense North African sun, Lor didn’t seemed too bothered. He looked like a boiled ham on a bed of orange hair, but was none the worse for it. Thoki grumbled curses under his breath.

“Is that it?” asked Lor for the thrity-sixth time.

“That’s a public toilet.”

“That it?”

“That’s a…” Thoki trailed off as he took in what Lor was looking at. “…An obelisk,” he said finally.

His pale eyes lit up. They looked almost clear in his sunburned face as he brushed his white-blond hair out of the way. A phallic monument of red granite was towering over an expanse of manicured grass and trees. Running towards it as fast as they could, Thoki and Lor pushed through the crowds and dodged cars as they made their way to the Obelisk.

“This is it! I remember this being here last time I came! Braggi told me it was older than the Pharoahs, perhaps older than Egypt. If the goddess Maat confined Chaos to an earthly prison, this might give us a clue!”

“So it’s older than that beef we had at that café?”

“Possibly,” said Thoki grimacing as his stomach made distressing noises.  “…Actually, could you point out that public toilet again? “

Ep: 11 Road Trip

Recap: Thoki has tricked his half-brother Jormungandr into downing a drinking gin until he passed out. Thoki wants Jormungandr to give him an Lor passage to Egypt to look for the "City of the Sun": supposedly the location of ISFAT, the course of all chaos. Thoki intends to use this chaos to rule the world. Lor intends to find out whether "The Swedish Chef" is real.

“Head more to the south, you’re veering too far east,” said Thoki.

“Freaking hate you, wiener,” grumbled Jormungandr.  

Thoki and Lor were seated along a long coil of Jormungandr’s snake form, just behind the head. Jorm was swimming in geriatric undulations and groaning every few yards. His serpent head, fearsome beyond all human imagining, had lost some of its hellfire. Dark circles surrounded the yellow eyes (which were now bloodshot and rather glassy) and his deadly breath, said to poison all who smelled it was even fouler than usual. Jormungandr was currently suffering from a Devine headache, of the sort that was usually caused by a cranial goddess crafting armor. The larger part of a bottle of Tanqueray and a thrashing about the head were to thank for that and Jorm had awoken from his gin-induced slumber to find himself captive in bonds made of heaviest-grade tow-cable.

That was when Thoki insisted that they be given transport to Alexandria… or else.

“I’d be tempted to drown you like a navy SEAL, you little bastard, if I wasn’t afraid of my head coming off,” Jormungandr mumbled through his metal bridle.

“Sorry I had to tie you up,” said Lor amiably.

“Nah, you’re alright, Lor. We should hang out sometime. In fact, we could hang out now, if you help me get rid of my stupid half-brother. Deal?” said the Serpent.

Lor debated this for a moment. “Could we come back for Thoki later?” asked Lor.

“Sure!” chuckled Jorm (and then winced through his hangover). “He might even still be alive if he’s a good swimmer.”

“No. I think we have some things to do first, Thoki and me.” Lor shook his head, which made Thoki sigh in relief. “Maybe afterwards.”

There was a pause before the World Serpent grasped at the last straw of hope. “Sure. If you guys can make it so that Fenrir doesn’t kill me, drinks are on me.”

“Don’t worry, Jorm,” said Thoki lightly. “I’ll tell Fenrir you were coerced.”

Jorm rolled his jaundiced eyes. “He’ll never believe me — I mean NEVER, EVER in a million years believe that you beat me up.”

“Thanks,” sniffed Thoki. “So what did Fenrir mean, the city of the sun?”

Jorm was carefully quiet and Thoki realized he was on his own this time.  “City of the Sun… The Egyptian God of the sun was Ra, right?” Thoki was being rhetorical, but to his surprise, Lor spoke up.

“Well there was Atum, Atum-Ra, Aten-Ra, Horus, The Mnevis Bull, and Khepri the dung beetle… to name a few,” said the Jotun

For a while there was no sound save the lapping of waves against the huge scaly flanks and Jormungandr’s mouth breathing through his bridle.

“Alrighty,” said Thoki eventually. “So we have a lot of options. Any one of the cities of Ancient Egypt dedicated to those guys could be our target.”

“Oh, simple as that then,” said Lor nodding.

“No, it’s not simple,” said Thoki in mounting frustration. “We’re talking several thousand years of clashing pantheons changing and growing overtime, each dynasty issuing its own rules and names. God knows what those cities are called now that the old gods are crushed under this new Mohammedan- religion-thing.”

“’S’not new. The Islamic faith was developed almost fourteen-hundred years ago, ass,” muttered Jorm through the thick cables.

“That’s new to me,” said Thoki with a shrug.

“So, city of Ra… city of Aten-Ra. Maybe even Akenatum… crap. I don’t know any cities like that. I always assumed it would be at one of the big places… like Memphis, or Luxor or Cairo,” said Thoki. He kneeded his forehead with his fist in frustration as he stared at the black, churning water. The wind was picking up, and Thoki put up his sweatshirt hood and shivered. “Jorm, do you know any Egyptian city that would have been the city of the sun?”

Jorm laughed so hard he nearly choked on the cables binding him. “I got no idea, pipsqueak. I’m a giant snake as long as the Australian coastline. I don’t really sit around all day studying Greek History.”

“What DO you do all day?” asked Thoki in annoyance.

“Watch TV. I got Netflix live-streaming on my PS3 and I have most of the cable channels. I also play Frontierville a lot. Are you on Facebook, Lor? I need some more gas lamps to build my Ponderosa Lodge.”

Lor shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t understand the Internet. I go “on the line” and it says I have mail, but when I check our P.O. box at the post office it’s always empty.”

“Nah, nah, dude! You’re supposed to click on the little picture of a letter,” said Jormungandr.

“I did that once, but all I got were some pictures… very confusing pictures,” said Lor with a dazed look.

“Really,” said Jorm in the voice of one hoping for elaboration. Lor wasn’t forthcoming, however.

“I don’t’ know… it’s all Greek to me,” sighed Lor.

“Greek,” said Thoki sitting up suddenly. “Just a moment ago, Jorm. You said you didn’t sit around watching Greek history, when I was clearly talking about Egypt!”

“Um… No I didn’t?” said Jormungandr without much hope.

“You totally did! You know where we’re supposed to be going, don’t you!”

“Um… Uh…. No I don’t?” moaned Jorm. If snakes could sweat, Jormungandr would have looked like “sketchy witness number two” from an episode of Law and Order.

“Egypt was taken over by Alexander the Great starting the Ptolemic Empire! It makes sense! So… Greek god of the sun… Apollo… no. ‘Apollopolis’ just sounds too dumb for me to forget it… no…”

“Helios?” suggested Lor.

Thoki snapped his fingers. “Heliopolis.”

“Oh, God, I’m dead,” moaned Jormungandr. His body began to tremble and his scales seemed duller and colder.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” demanded Thoki.

“I can’t tell you,” said Jorm.

“AREN’T I?” insisted Thoki.

Jormungandr gave a sad little nod.

“Yes!” said Thoki, giving his brother’s bridle a vindictive little jerk. “Who’s the wiener now, ‘foot-long’?”  

The serpent said nothing, but his lethargic pace slowed to nearly glacial speed as he edged closer to certain peril.

Excerpt (warning: Rated R for Sexual Situations)

I purposefully decided not to write out the details of Thoki and Eris's reunion. Recent conversation with @WerewolfMike, @Nemone7 and @notmoro however encouraged me to write and post it as an excerpt for those who were curious. The events go back to when Thoki was running with Eris down the streets of Bastia from the other Tricksters.

They ran until they felt certain that the patter of pursuing footsteps had disappeared entirely. It seemed that Eris had done the job. The Tricksters were all too busy fighting amongst themselves to give more than a half-hearted chase.

“So… what now?” asked Thoki, out of breath.

Without answering, Eris threw him backwards against the brick wall of a menswear boutique.

“OW! HEY!” groaned Thoki! “What was that for? What’re..?”

Thoki was halted in his protests by Eris jumping on his hips and attacking his mouth in a frantic kiss.

“Oh,” he said, realization dawning.

Her teeth bit into his lips, making him wince, but the moment her searching tongue ran along his jawline, he instantly reacted. He bound his slight arms around her, twisting her leather jacket in his hands as he returned fire with a passionate kiss of his own. Their ragged breaths mingled as she clung tightly to him, her thighs hugging his waist as she slid up and down. Thoki’s heart was pounding now as he feverishly moved in rhythm to collide with her. He felt her breasts mash against his chest with each push. His hand found its way to her bare thigh and followed it under her skirt. Eris unzipped his sweatshirt, and tore the hem of his cheap shirt to shreds. She reached under it, her soft fingers gliding over his smooth bare chest before teasing his nipples into hard points. His breath came in faster grunting gasps as she excited and baited him. He wanted to get into her so badly it hurt him and he shook and sweat in his growing hunger.

It was when she climbed off and started unbuttoning his jeans that his brain slammed on the breaks.

“Whoa-whoa-WHOA! Hang on,” he said suddenly. “We’re doing this here? In the streets?”

“It’s raining, nobody’s out here,” she said breathlessly.

“But people are watching us through the windows,” said Thoki, uncertainly, trying to shoo her hands away from his fly. “There’s a guy over there at the tie store who keeps staring at us.”

“Let him. He should get an eyeful in a minute,” said Eris with a sly grin.

Thoki didn’t feel like returning it. “Besides, this wall is filthy and the bricks are rough… and it’s kind of painful. Can’t we get a room in some hote—” He didn’t get a chance to finish as Eris managed finally to undo his pants and slide them down just enough. With far too much ease, she remounted and made Thoki very aware that she wasn’t wearing a thing under her tight leather mini.

“Uh! Maybe we should…” he managed in a strange high voice before all synopses in his brain ceased firing and made him incapable of speech. He was only aware of sensations now. He smelled the perfume in her hair and the leather of her jacket. He heard her gasp and moan as she deftly led his hand under her thin tee-shirt to her breast. He could taste the salty sweat of her neck and the rain rolling off it along with the blood on his lips from her aggressive foreplay. Her voice cried out louder and louder, each time with more urgency. His voice joined hers in the unnaturally high shrieks of a man trying to keep his focus as well as his balance. The cold rain made him shiver and her burning warmth made him shudder as he fought to hold on. If people were still staring at them, he was aware of none of them. There was only this.

Eris took this opportunity to tease him, pulling away when he lunged forward and then waiting for his pants of frustration before finally gratifying him, only to pull away again. He was scarcely aware of what words were tumbling out of his mouth, it was a nonsensical babble of entreaties, exclamations, and curses as he ran the gamut of every emotion known to man in 3 seconds, and then ran them again, over and over. Twice he almost lost his footing as she drove him crazy with pain and ecstasy.

After a long loud squeal from Eris, Thoki felt safe enough in sprinting for the finish line. Spinning around, until Eris’s back faced the wall, he summoned the untapped reserve of animal energy that was driving him. His muscles burned with the pace and his thighs ached from supporting her weight. His head received a few knocks from the wall as well, but then…oblivion. He saw purple stars explode as his back suddenly arched and he loosed a feral scream into the air just as a thunderbolt shook the sleepy island and made the air smell of burning tin.

There was no post-coital cigarette. There was no obligatory 10 minute cuddle and “what are you thinking about” conversation. There wasn’t a hot shower — Hell, there wasn’t even anything even to lie down on. There was only the same unforgiving wall, which he leaned against with all his weight, while Eris hung on for a few victory laps. It was when they heard the police sirens, that Eris, with as much poise as a queen, collected herself and grabbed Thoki by the hand, pulling him into a run towards a black Mercedes parked along the street.

He stumbled raggedly behind her while doing up his jeans, wishing he could go back in time to six minutes ago. If he’d gone back ten minutes ago, he could tell himself to get a hotel room. There was generally no running with hotel rooms… that is until they discovered your credit card was a stolen one.

 He climbed into the passenger seat in a daze. A realization dawned that it had been fantastic. In his severely limited experience, it had blown every other time away without question (barring one). But amidst the glow of having tasted that black starry oblivion and coming back, was the pain of loss. It was over. Knowing Eris, she would disappear soon, and he would only have the memory of that one frantic screw to visit in his mind on lonely nights. The bitterness made him tear up, and he testily hid his eyes under his hood while he fought against crying. But despite all of that, the loss, the fatigue and the utter confusion, there was a smile on Thoki’s face and it didn’t feel like leaving.


You can find other naughty excerpts at @Nemone7's Blog and at @WerewolfMike's Blog.

Episode 10: Take a Shot

RECAP: Thoki has just beaten up his brother, the World Serpent Jormungandr. He’s hoping he can convince his brother to transport him and Lor to Egypt to look for the source of all chaos, ISFAT. Lor is trying to remember something important, but can’t remember what it is or who told it to him, or whether or not it was related to Cookie Monster.

Thoki was thirteen when his brothers and sister were banished from Asgard. He’d overheard the whole thing one evening when he was at Freyja’s house. He was beginning to recognize what those funny fluttery sensations were when he was near Freyja’s daughter, Hnoss.  One evening he’d snuck into her room to make boyish professions of love. He’d been making good progress when they’d heard voices by the hearth. Hnoss and he had paused in their clumsy petting and crept to the door to hear the conversation.

Freyja’s brother Frey had come visiting.

“We leave tonight. I’ve come to tell you to bar your door.”

“So soon?” asked Freyja

“We can’t leave it any longer. They begin to grow in power and mischief as we knew they would,” said the handsome Frey. Like his sister, he was paler and more slight than the Aesir, but there was a power to him that made Tyr and Heimdall hang back. “And please mention this to no one until we have succeeded.”

“Why not?” asked Freyja. “Surely you sought the All-Father’s approval!”

The three men looked uncomfortable and exchanged nervous glances.

“Odin has agreed to it… but if Thor should overhear… you know that he thinks Loki his dearest friend in the world,” said Tyr, rolling his eyes. “He would never knowingly turn a hand against Loki.”

“But this is NOT against Loki, only his brood, which are Jotun… and you know how Thor is incensed by Jotun,” said Freyja.

“We’re not taking any chances,” said Frey.

“Do you agree with this plan then?” asked Heimdall.

“I have had enough run-ins with Jotun… and with Loki… to know that his children cannot be trusted,” said Freyja nodding. “The sooner they are disposed of the better.”

Thoki listened as his stomach turned to ice. Disposed of? He had no doubt that, despite the fact that he and his siblings didn’t share the same mother, Freyja had meant to include him too. Hnoss’s grip on his arm convinced him further. What should he do? Should he run? Should he warn Jormungandr and Fenrir, and hide behind them? What was to become of them?

“Odin said that we must not harm them; His blood flows in their veins no matter how diluted. But he has consented let us imprison them,” said Tyr.

“You are sure of yourselves, but I’m worried about the ease with which you’ll conquer the eldest, Fenrir,” sighed Freyja.

 “We’ll manage it. I’d bet my right hand on it,” said Tyr with a grin, waggling his fingers.

****

“You know, wiener, (hic) I’ve …never hadanyfriends,” slurred Jormungandr swaying where he sat. He was sporting several cuts and large bruises, the crowning glory of which was a large swollen black eye. Thoki was wearing similar badges of honor, primarily a split lip and some very bloody knuckles. He, Jorm and Lor were seated around a cheerful fire, toasting fish on sticks. The bottle of Tanqueray was now changing hands as each took long pulls of the fragrant gin. Lor was either being very quiet, or was asleep with his eyes open again.

“You were ev’body’s favorite, lil’ Thoki,” moaned Jormungander, taking another drink and swallowing the piece of fish that was trying to escape. “E’body’s always like, ‘Ahh reverse course! It’s a gian’ sea-monster! We’re all gonna die!’ Nob’dy dossat with you, righ?”

“Nah. They jus’ ignore me all the time,” said Thoki sadly, blinking back tears. “ Or worse, they pity me. Poor lil’ short Thoki who’s a sissy an a failure. Nob’dy likes me—likes me—likes me neither.”

Jormungandr sniffed and wrapped a muscly arm around Thoki’s unresisting shoulders, briefly laying his head on him in a show of affection. He and Thoki were silent and still for a moment before the serpent-man handed his brother the green bottle. Thoki raised the bottle to his lips with some effort as there was still over 1.75 litres in it.  He pretended to drink, stopping the liquid with this tongue over the bottle’s rim. He then passed it back to Jorm who took three large swallows of the stuff before belching loudly. He then began to sing,

“Memories… all alone in the moonlight…”

“So there’s not anny-anny chance that’choo can take us to Egypt?” asked Thoki interrupting Jorm before he really got started.

At this, Jorm burst into tears. “I caaaan’t!!! Not even after that …rreally grreat fight we had!” Big fat drops were cascading down Jorm’s angular features and splashing wetly onto his t-shirt. “He would totally kill me!”

“Who’d kill ya?” asked Thoki, trying to maintain his drunk-act.

“I can’ tell you, ‘cause he’d killme,” said Jorm shaking his head. He then realized this was a bad idea and had to hold it in both hands to keep it from falling off.

“Who’d kill you for telling me who’d kill you?” asked Thoki. He was too anxious to slur his speech, but Jormungandr didn’t seem to catch on.

“Fenrir would,” said Jorm before clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. “Oh shit. Oh, God, don’t tell him it was me that told you!”

Thoki wasn’t listening. Instead he was feeling sick to his stomach and a prickly sweat was breaking out over his body making him feel feverish.

“You ‘kay, brah?” asked Jorm.

“I’m gonna barf,” whispered Thoki.

“Me too. I think we ate something funny,” moaned Jorm stifling another hiccup and wishing the world would stop spinning. “I’m gonna go to sleep now,” he said before flopping over backwards.

“I thought Fenrir was dead,” said Thoki.

“This mattress sucks,” mumbled Jorm from the smooth rock floor.

Thoki leaned over and shook his brother, who whimpered pathetically.

“Jorm, I thought Fenrir was dead,” said Thoki again, more urgently. “Vidar killed him. I saw it! He died in Ragnarok!”

“So did you,” said Jorm with a drunken laugh.

Thoki stopped breathing as the realization hit him. “He’s back?”

“Yeah, as it turns out, he’s related to the chick who gaurds the gates to the underworld,” said Jormungandr sarcastically before dissolving into giggles.

“Hel let him out too,” said Thoki.

“If it makes you feel any better,” said Jorm, “I don’t think she wanted to.”

“Does he know I’m here?” asked Thoki shaking his brother.

“Whuh?” asked Jorm muzzily.

“Does Fenrir know I’m on Earth and looking for Isfat?”

But there was no answer, only light snores rattling from Jorm’s serpentine sinus.

“Jorm! Wake up!” cried Thoki anxiously. “Jorm! Does Fenrir know!”

“He gave me a message,” came Lor’s voice form across the fire.

Thoki jumped to his feet and looked at the Jotun. “He knows then?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

Lor nodded. “He said not to look for it. He said not to go to the city of the sun.”

“The city of the sun?” asked Thoki. He frowned. “He said that?”

Lor thought. “… Yes, but he also said not to tell you that it was he who told me.”

Thoki gave him a half smile, despite his jangling nerves. “God bless your oatmeal brains, Lor,” he said simply. “Now, we need to find a way to keep him here until he agrees to take us to Egypt,” he added, pointing to the supine Jorm.

“We still going then?” asked Lor.

“Are you kidding, Lor? If Fenrir is afraid of Isfat than it’s guaranteed to be something good.”

Episode 9: The Gentle Man

Recap: Thoki and Lor are reunited at last! They are on the run from the Bastia Police for grand theft auto, destruction of property and assault with a deadly fist. Lor has also had a mysterious visit from Fenrir with a message for Thoki. Lor will probably remember the message eventually, once he gets his mind off weightier matters like: if chickens are birds, why can’t they fly?

When Loki bothered to come home, Thoki’s mother encouraged him to stay with one of the other Aesir. He usually stayed with Forseti those evenings. Forseti was a little older than Thoki, but he liked the kid and pitied his home life — and why wouldn’t he? Forseti came from the perfect family. His parents, Baldur and Nanna, were hopelessly devoted to each other, and they both doted on their obedient loving son. It was saccharine to the point of being sickening, and one would think that Thoki would be eaten alive with jealousy. On some nights he was sick with envy, especially when he was asleep on his pallet at nights and overheard his father stumbling in drunk and abusing his mother.

When he was in Baldur’s shining silver house, however, he felt temporary relief from the constant torrent of anger that consumed him all the time. Everyone here was so welcoming to him, so kind and gentle and understanding, especially Baldur. Thoki began to seek in Baldur the comfort and advice he never got from his dad. Most of all, Thoki liked Baldur because he wasn’t like the other men. Thor, Tyr, Heimdall and the others were always berating Thoki for his cowardice and bumbling skill in battle. Odin and the women all took pity on him and commiserated with his mother. When he cried about it to Baldur he expected another lecture on the honor of battle, but it never came. Instead, Baldur put a kindly arm around his shoulder and said.

“I understand. I’m not a fighter either, Thoki, and I have been mocked for it as well by the other Aesir.”

“But everyone loves you,” said Thoki in awe. And it was true. While Thor and Odin were legendary, even among the legends, Baldur was the most beloved god in all of Asgard.

“I have earned their love in other ways, Thoki,” said Baldur quietly. “Don’t struggle in vain to become something you are not. You will never be a great warrior, and… I think that you don’t want to be, either.”

“No. I hate fighting,” said Thoki.

“As do I. But you have other talents, Thoki. You are clever, as clever as your father, but you have your mother’s good heart. Use those gifts to their best advantage, Thoki. People will love you if you become the best man you can be.”

*************

Lor was running down the wet streets of Bastia. Fog was rolling off the streets, obscuring everything in a cloying damp wall of grey. Thoki was slung over his shoulder — this was for two reasons: firstly, Thoki couldn’t run nearly as fast nor as long as Lor could; second, because it gave Thoki a chance to think. The Police had temporarily stopped chasing them as Lor had succeeded in knocking out the gendarmes who had jumped them. It wouldn’t be long, however, until a full-scale man-hunt was underway and they would have more trouble getting out of that kind of net.

“Do you have any preference as to which direction I should be running in?” asked Lor.

“Don’t end sentences with prepositions, moron,” sighed Thoki wracking his brain. His thinking was somewhat muddled by the last few hours. What if the tricksters had been right? What if the chaos could potentially undo all life itself? Was he really willing to risk that? Then again, he was taking the word of a bunch of tricksters who were as “trustworthy” as a board of directors. And then there was that incident with Eris. He had no clue what she was after. Having rough sex in the back of a Mercedes Benz was high up on his list of WINs, but it had been too abrupt, too frenetic, too… well… confusing. He was pretty sure he had enjoyed it, but his brain wasn’t so sure. He had a horrible premonition that their little tumble would end up biting him in the ass later. Right now there was only one certainty running through his head: he had to get to Egypt.  Everything would become clear if he made it to Egypt.

“Lor, try to head for the ocean!”

“Which way’s that, then?”

“We’re on an island. If you run in a straight line, we’ll come to it eventually,” said Thoki shrugging. Then an idea hatched in his head. “If you come to a liquor store, let’s do a quick smash and grab. Okay?”

“’Kay.”

In twenty minutes, they were at one of the shores along the French island. It was one of the less commercial beaches, covered in rubbish and steep inclines. There were some tide pools and rocky caves that were inaccessible, and with the evening tide rolling in, some would be cut off entirely from the mainland. Thoki couldn’t have planned it better.

“Good job, Lor!” he said with genuine feeling. The cold wind bit cruelly through his damp clothes, causing him to tremble uncontrollably, but his eyes were alight with hidden fire and his cheeks glowed pink with excitement. He found an abandoned inner tube and after he assured that it was watertight he jumped inside.

“Paddle us out to that outcrop, Lor — into that recess there.”

“You sure? The tide’s coming in?” asked Lor.

“I’m sure,” said Thoki in dead earnest.

Lor jumped into the cold choppy water and swam with all his might against the riptides. Seawater splashed into his eyes and mouth, yet he persevered with a single-mindedness that impressed Thoki. Soon they were in a relatively dry shelter of rock that was isolated by the tide, and hidden completely from the police in the fog.

Thoki pulled the 2 litre bottle of Tanqueray out from under his hoodie and using the ragged hem of his t-shirt, tied a makeshift tether to the bottle before letting it float in the water.

“JORM!!” shouted Thoki. “JORMUNGANDR!”

“What are you doing?” asked Lor quietly.

“I’m getting us a ride,” said Thoki. “This is the only way I can think of to get to Egypt with no money and the police after us.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to go to Egypt,” said Lor suddenly.

Thoki whipped around. “What do you mean?”

“I… I’m not sure…” said Lor, looking distressed. “I forget.” He tried hard to recollect his conversation with Fenrir, but was drawing a blank. “Never mind,” he said eventually, shaking his head.

Thoki shrugged. This sudden outburst from Lor was probably another one of the giant’s strange fancies.

“JORM!!” Thoki screamed again, as loud as he could.

He kept screaming long after the pearl grey sky had turned to a bruised red and the lights of police boats winked on the horizon. Thoki was disheveled and pale by now, with red-rimmed eyes and hollow cheeks. He was cold, he was starving (literally), he hadn’t slept in ages, but his eyes were still ablaze with a mad fervor as he called out to his half-brother.

“YES! Jeez! What is it?” came a voice from further inside the cave. Jormungandr was once again in his human form, looking like a green-haired hipster with serpentine eyes. He wore another black fitted t-shirt over his marble chest; it bore the puzzling legend “SWEEP THE LEG.” Thoki paused a half second to wonder where the HELL Jorm got all these shirts.

“Hey! You got me some good stuff this time!” said Jorm, brightening as he examined the bottle of gin. He then caught sight of Thoki’s expression and his grin fell.

“What’s goin’ on?” Jorm asked, stepping back a little.

“I need to get to Egypt, and you are going to take me. NOW,” said Thoki in a hoarse voice.

Jorm shook his head, “Nuh-uh! There’s no frakking way. I don’t do passengers!”

“Oh, you’re going to. One way or another,” croaked Thoki.

“How? Are you going to set your giant on me?” said Jorm, glancing at the Jotun with disinterest.

“No. I’ll fight you myself.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” said Jorm. He laughed, but it didn’t sound convincing. Something about Thoki was bothering Jorm. He’d never seen him this focused before. The little man seemed bigger, somehow. He was still a scant 4’11, and had the build of a prepubescent girl, but there was a power underneath his shivering wet frame. In his human form, Jormungandr was as strong as ten Lors but against all reason, he was nervous.

“You don’t fight,” Jorm said eventually, in the hope that Thoki would remember this too.

“If you want to test that theory, go right ahead,” said Thoki with a smile. Baldur’s words from over a millennium ago echoed in his head.

“You will never be a great warrior, and… I think that you don’t want to be, either”

You were wrong, Baldur, thought Thoki. I didn’t want to be a great warrior… because I had nothing to fight for… but now I do.

Thoki broke into a run and Jorm tensed, frozen to the rock floor. The snake-man only had enough presence of mind to put down his precious booze before preparing to defend himself. Which was why he was unprepared as Thoki leaped into the air and clocked him on the jaw.


Thoki and Jormungandr