Free Loki by Mike Vasich Page A

share . . . the same . . . spark . . .”
    “ They will tell him that?”
    “ No . . . but he will . . . learn it . . .”
    “ Will they tell him what the mason is?”
    “ They are . . . one and . . . the same . . .”
    Odin narrowed his eyes. “They will not tell him that.”
    “ Yes . . . and no . . .
    Odin looked up at the night sky above. The stars were said to be sparks from the flames of Muspelheim, that fiery realm on the outskirts of the Nine Worlds. He had placed them there himself, part of his creation of the Nine Worlds, or so the story went. He did not remember doing such a thing, but it was difficult to recall events that happened so long ago, especially when he was ever drifting forward and backward in time.
    The events he had set in place when he accepted the mason's deal troubled him, even while he realized the necessity. He was the Allfather, had been thus for so long that he could only barely remember a time when he was not. The Aesir looked to him for guidance, and he was always there to provide it. And yet he was their enemy, although they did not know it. Indeed, they might never know it, although they might have an inkling when he ordered the armies of the Aesir outside the wall to confront the two massive armies bearing down on them.
    But perhaps not. They were so accustomed to the unerring wisdom of the Allfather that most would be loathe to dispute even so questionable a decision. There must be a reason, they would say. There is a strategy that only the High One knows. There would be a reason, of course, but he would never explain it. Nor would any of them understand it if he did.
    He did not need understanding from them, but his actions felt like a betrayal. No, he thought, they are a betrayal, but a necessary one. It was ironic that they found deceit and treachery in Loki's every word and deed, that they would condemn him for his actions, when he was merely a tool for the High One. In truth, Odin was their greatest enemy. Only a few would ever realize it, however. All others would be dead.
     
    The World Tree Yggdrasil towered over all of creation. Its roots led down into the furthest regions of Niflheim, deep into the bowels of the underworld. It rose through Midgard, unseen by mortals who could not perceive its scale, and through the heavenly plane on which Asgard sat. Its branches spread out over all the Nine Worlds. It was the lifeblood of creation. Yggdrasil was there before the frost giant Ymir was killed and carved up, his body becoming the earth, trees, and sky. It was there even before Ymir’s body was formed from a frozen block of ice. Yggdrasil always was, and always would be.
    Loki had seen it once, and it had overwhelmed him with its majesty and size. It had been long ago, before the wars, and he had been searching the horizon for something long forgotten. As the sun set he squinted his eyes against its rays, and for a short moment he glimpsed the enormity of the World Tree. Its branches stretched further and higher than his sight could travel, and its trunk plunged down to Midgard and beyond. In the briefest of instants, Loki had felt its towering presence as a living thing, as a fundamental part of creation. While the sight of it had faded with the years, the feeling that had washed over him had remained as powerful as when he had first experienced it.
    That feeling guided him toward Yggdrasil even now, where he would hopefully find the Norns. They would know of the mason. He was not at all certain they would tell him anything, but his own chanting of the runes had been fruitless, and he did not trust either Frey or Freyja to tell him anything of worth.
    As he was immersed in thought, the tree seemed to come upon him at once.
    It was dark everywhere, but not the dark of nighttime. It was not cold enough to be night, and as he looked up at the sky he could see sunlight desperately trying to pierce the tangled and intertwining branches of the tree. He was in the shadow of