Tongues of Serpents

My original intention had been to unweave or break the pattern of the geas-spell itself, but we soon realized that it was far too complex for us to unravel without more advanced equipment and much more time, and far too powerful to risk breaking. Instead, we agreed to untangle it as far as we could, and cut Ragnar’s connections to it at that point. Ragnar’s pattern would heal—eventually, probably—but it seemed likely that the backlash from trying to break the pattern entirely could injure or even kill us all. I felt a little guilty for having come instead of Daucus, who had centuries more experience than I did, but I also believed that ultimately hie would have made the same choice.

The process was tedious and nerve-wracking at the same time. Every thread that we considered for cutting had to be traced, to make sure we didn’t break something vital in Ragnar’s mind or spirit. I was fervently glad of the years of study I’d put in before coming to Asgard into the aetheric patterns of Aesir. Loki wasn’t as familiar with auras, but he had an intuitive understanding of Aesir reactions to aetheric manipulation which several times saved me from making poor or even disastrous choices. As more of the geas was untangled and cut free, we were able to lift and bind it into the lattice above Ragnar’s aura, where it roiled above him like a cloud of poisonous smoke. It wasn’t sentient, but it was malevolently active, and very determined to stay attached.

After several hours, we both needed a break. I went back for a quick swim in the lake we’d entered through, while Loki prepared some food from the stores he’d supplied for Ragnar’s stay. We chatted and joked casually while we are, but the dark cloud of the geas seemed to cast an oppressive shadow that we couldn’t quite shake, and we soon went back to work.

Finally, we agreed that we had disconnected enough of the geas to try cutting its remaining attachment to Ragnar’s aura. I stood up on my hind legs, stretched out so I could use my claws to grasp and pull the pattern up. It was resisting me, and I found I was straining to keep a grasp and continue lifting it up and away from Ragnar’s form.

“Stop, stop!” Loki shouted. He’d been watching the remnants of the geas that still extended into Ragnar’s aura. We’d hoped that we had found and cut all the connections, but we didn’t want to leave it to hope. “There’s a snarl of it still tangled up,” he said, reaching in and pulling at the strands.

“Cut it loose,” I said, nearly panting with the strain of holding the rest of the geas pattern away from Ragnar’s threads. “It’s fighting me—I can’t hold it up here much longer!”

“It’s curled all around his memory,” Loki said, a note of panic in his voice. “I can’t cut it out, and it keeps tangling back when I pull it loose.”

I started swearing in my native language. I couldn’t let go of the pattern, or it would rebound back into Ragnar’s aura and become even more entangled than it already was. Sudden arcs of pain shot through my claws and I nearly dropped the geas, snarling in surprise and pain.

“Void above, it’s—pull it one more time,” Loki said, his voice hardening. “I’m going to cut it.”

I didn’t have the attention to argue with him. Clamping down on the pain that was creeping up my arms, I strained again, concentrating on holding as much of the pattern as I could while pulling it farther aloft and away from its victim.

At first I thought that the geas had jerked free, and I was lifting it with my own strength. I tried to stop, and realized that it was rising in an explosion of uncontrolled aetheric energy. I was thrown backwards across the cavern, the pattern disintegrating in my claws, and slammed to the ground hard enough to stun me for a few moments.

I got my forelegs under me and shook my head. The lights were swinging wildly, knocked out of their paths by the blast, adding to my disorientation. My body was regenerating, but I could tell that my own aura was badly disrupted.

“Sigyn?”

I looked up to see Loki wobbling towards me, then closed my eyes again, unsure how much of the wobbling was due to his unsteadiness or disruption in my own vision. Shaking my head again, I held up a foreclaw. “I’m… all right,” I said, hoping it wasn’t too big of a lie. “Ragnar?”

I felt Loki approach and take hold of my arm. “He’s fine. Most of the blast went up; he was knocked to the ground, but not injured. He’ll need to sleep for a while.” There was an odd sensation that I guessed was Loki inspecting my aura. “You’re… not looking well, Sigyn.”

I tried to protest again that I was all right, but it came out as an incoherent grunt. Frustrated, I tried to send information to him directly through the aether—that I just needed some time, he should go tend to Ragnar, and by the time he was done with that I should be functional again. I’m not trained as a telepath, and I have no idea how clearly it came across or how much of it Loki understood, but he withdrew. I curled up and went through the grounding meditation again, more slowly and carefully, paying close attention to sorting out my own pattern.

I opened my eyes as Loki returned, and was pleased to see that the cavern lights were back in their serene, slow orbits. By the time he reached me I’d shifted back into my guard shape and was wearing the illusory clothing I’d crafted earlier. I was very glad that I’d thought to graft on the pattern of the clothing when I made it, rather than having to recreate the illusion from memory. Loki helped me stand up, and I smiled weakly. “We should definitely leave now,” I said. “I’m all right—nothing that a day or two of sleep won’t cure—but I’m not going to be able to stay awake much longer.”

“Ragnar is stable and settled,” Loki told me. “There aren’t any branches or forks in the tunnel, so I’m going to have you go ahead of me—if you have a problem, I can help you more readily that way, and I won’t worry about leaving you behind.”

I nodded, and we walked back to the lake. I would have liked to change into a much smaller form and have Loki carry me back, but displacing that much mass with an unfamiliar shape requires energy and concentration, and I was very short on both. I couldn’t suppress a shudder at the thought of what would happen if my concentration slipped and I revered to my native form in the tunnel. The guard-pattern was already grafted to my aura, so once it was activated it took no energy to maintain. Loki turned and seemed about to say something, but instead he draped the waterbreathing device around my neck, then conjured a tiny light spell and passed it to my hand. I gave him a smile that probably looked as terrible as I felt, and pretty much fell into the lake.

Getting through the passage was a nightmare. I kept drifting off, and when I did Loki would send me a gentle push of energy to get me moving again for another length of tunnel. The transition between realms and the tuns of the tunnel disoriented me so completely that I only knew I was still heading in the right direction from Loki’s constant presence behind me. Even my physical regeneration was slower, and I was accumulating many bruises, scratches, and abrasions from the rough walls of the cave. Each time, the pain gave me a jolt of adrenaline at first, helping to clear my head and letting me move a little quicker. As the pain faded the sleepiness would creep back, heavier than before. I began deliberately banging my head and knees against the tunnel walls, dragging myself between each moment of injury.

Suddenly the tunnel walls were gone, and I was drifting in the water. There was a rock wall beside me, but I had no idea what its orientation was, and no energy to figure it out. Loki had to drag me along behind him. I tried to give at least a little bit of assistance paddling, but every time I did Loki had to turn me around from swimming sideways or down, and I soon gave up, going lip in his one-armed grasp as he pulled me the rest of the way to the surface.

The water gave everything a dreamlike quality, and I wasn’t entirely conscious anyway. My awareness flickered, and I thought I might have been leaning against the canyon wall, Loki keeping me upright as something grew rapidly overhead. Then I was tumbled into the skybarge, sopping went and sprawling limply on the floor. I felt myself lifting, and wondered when I’d decided to go flying again, then felt a warm breeze and realized I was flying through the Valley of Prisms at home, letting the warm updrafts carry me in a gentle glide through something that was half memory, half dream.

Some time later, I opened my eyes to a panorama of stars and swirling clouds, glowing purple in the last of the day’s light. I felt like I was wrapped in a snug, warm blanket, but when I tried to pull it closer around me I realized it was an aetheric creation. I blinked, then raised my head from the cushioned bench of the skybarge and smiled at Loki where he sat at the tiller of the boat. “Thank you,” I told him.

“For—oh, that.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing.” I would have argued if I’d had the energy, but instead I closed my eyes again, my head drifting down to rest on an invisible pillow.

“Sigyn…” I opened my eyes, but didn’t raise my head, and made a humming noise to indicate that I was listening. Loki stared at his hands, and seemed to be struggling with himself. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep again, he said very quietly, “I am sorry.”

“Hmm?” I blinked and tried to focus on his aura, but my aetheric perceptions were still jumbled, and all I could see was a mass of dark green tendrils that stretched towards me.

“I made the decision to cut the geas pattern instead of Ragnar’s aura, even though you’d warned me not to.” He looked up at me, but in the growing twilight I couldn’t make out his expression. “I made a mistake, and it ended up hurting you badly. And… I truly regret that.”

I propped myself up on an elbow and gave him what I hoped was a stern glare. “You made the best decision you could under difficult circumstances,” I said, enunciating the words very carefully. “It sounded like cutting Ragnar’s aura at that point might have crippled or killed him, and I wasn’t giving you time to try anything else.” Fuzzy-headed as I was, it took me a few moments more to realize how tense he was. I couldn’t begin to figure out why, but I suddenly realized what he needed to hear from me. “Loki… I forgive you.” I smiled and held out my hand.

For a second I thought he was going to drop to his knees, and I think he did too, before he bent at the waist and caught my hand, brushing his lips against my knuckles. He lowered my hand, but didn’t let go as he smiled back at me. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

I left my hand in his grasp as I lowered myself back to the seat of the skybarge, my eyes drifting shut. The green tendrils curled up around my wrist, and I could feel them, soft and warm, against my aura. “Don’t worry,” I murmured, already fading into sleep again. “It should be much easier to break the lock on you.”

If he replied I didn’t hear it, falling back to glide through the Valley of Prisms again, in the company of a vaguely comforting, friendly presence.