The Seventh Stone

The following morning, we leave the safety of our camp for a long, arduous trek along the trade route—which apparently is  outlined by two dim, glowing lanes built in the dirt. Loki discovered them last night while it was dark, and evidently, this what he meant when he said he’d gone exploring—while I was ‘indisposed.’

I’d venture to say that I’m more indisposed now than I was last night, what with stress and lack of restful sleep beating down my spirit… There’s also Loki’s dour presence to contend with, and he doesn’t seem to be a particularly talkative character. But at least he’s mindful of our basic survival needs. Just this morning, he brought us little pouches filled with water from who knows where, and I’ve been carrying it around all day. Granted, I splashed half of it on my face to make sure I’m not still asleep, but he didn’t exactly have a look of genuine care before or after—in fact, he didn’t even bother to ask why I did that. 

But, of course, I continue to remind myself of what we discussed last night: he’s not my friend. We’re here for different reasons, and he’s keeping me alive because I’m a means to an end. That’s all. He keeps me alive to find the seventh stone, and I help him do that by staying close… At least until I have more information on how to survive on my own—and on what to actually do with the stone, after I’ve found it. 

I haven’t told him I’m still thinking about that last part, though. I doubt he’d kill me, but… if he doesn’t, he may very well leave me out here for something else.  

I’ve had plenty of time to think this over in the past four hours of hiking, with Loki ahead of me. The path eventually widens as we get further away from the black sand fields, and leads us under a massive root that stretches over our heads and plunges into the ground—almost like a threshold under the tree line. 

The underside of the root, along with the colorful vegetation growing along its surface, are pretty much all I can see until we get to the opening on the other side—where a flurry of movement in the sky suddenly heralds an assault on all my senses. 

My eyes bolt upward at the sight and sound of a multitude of spaceships zooming around above our heads, catching the occasional glint of sunlight passing through small openings among the branches of the nearest tree. Which are too high up and sparse for rays of light reach the ground.

I follow the zipping spaceships with my eyes as I stumble down the path behind him, until vibrant patches of electronic platforms catch my attention along the sides of the tree. Glowing veins of various colors snaking between the folds of the tree trunk—glowing and flickering as some of the ships land on the platforms, or simply fly by.

Loki props his hands on either side of his hips as he exhales sharply, looking up at it all. 

“Alright,” he faces me. “There’s likely a settlement somewhere around here—” 

He pauses, furrowing a brow reactively to what I’m sure is the the stupidest look on my face. I can’t hide my amazement though—this is the stuff of comic books down to the mark, like it jumped straight off the page… And I would know, because I actually have friends who are comic book artists. 

“This is incredible,” I smile, and lower my gaze down to his unamused expression. “Isn’t it?” 

Loki glances upward, and shrugs with a glimmer of casual appreciation. “I might’ve said so, once… But this is hardly the strangest world I’ve seen."

I widen my eyes. “Seriously? You’ve seen other places like this?"

He nods. “I’ve seen many worlds, yes,” he says emphatically, seemingly taking the opportunity to boast a little. “Like Midgard, this one is but a single grain of sand in the cosmos.” 

“Yeah," I nod earnestly, propping my hands onto my hips as I look back up at the sky. “I’ve heard that expression—this is just a hell of an unexpected taste of that reality.”

“Well,” he gestures upward. "Go on and revel in it. I ask only that you don't lower your guard—that’d only cause more trouble for the both of us."

I lower my eyes down to him, "Of course,” I nod. “Doesn’t matter if I’m in a different country or a different town—I’m always careful in strange places, you don’t need to worry about me.” 

Loki's evaluative eyes pass over me. “Good—let's keep going then," he turns to the path for a moment, but suddenly pivots back around with a finger pointed in the air. "One more thing—you should probably let me do all the talking."

"What?" I ask, raising a brow at him. “Are you sure?” 

“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have said anything.” 

I bob my head to the side. “Well alright, but just so you know, I built an entire career in no small part by being able to charm the pants off total strangers,” I grin sarcastically, waving a hand through the air. “Figuratively speaking—for the most part.” 

Loki lowers his chin as he peers back at me, "Well which of us do you suppose is better versed in political diplomacy?"

I shrug. “Well, if you want to get fancy—coquetry’s more effective with men,” my lips curl as I raise my hands to my hips, holding back a laugh… Wondering whether he’ll know the big word. “Who do you suppose is better at that?"

Loki pauses, and his eyes dart up at me in a motionless stare—he definitely knows the big word. 

And the slightly strained look on his face finally coaxes the laugh out of my chest, “Oh relax," my arms drop to my sides as I step past him, shaking my head amusedly as I pat his thick, leather pauldron. “I’m just kidding with you.” 

His lips thin, but I don’t catch whether one of the corners curl before I turn back to the road and keep walking.  

Our first encounter with people is just the corner, along the root’s natural curve, and Loki shifts slightly closer to me as small tents and shops appear along both sides of the path. There’s a variety of wares lining the streets—from crystalline lamps, to linen, to oddly shaped fruit. Spaceships continue zipping around above our heads, and I blink as a small cat hops onto a wooden beam to our left—with a blue metallic eye, and sheets of metal covering half its fur. 

The people themselves don’t look that much different from us, though their ears are pointier, and some of them are sporting elegant stripe tattoos. The only other difference is their clothes—the women’s apparel is definitely not as modest as the suit Loki gave me, and nearly everyone’s clothes are are heavily embellished with gleaming metals. So, compared to them, we stand out like two sore thumbs. 

“Have you ever been here before?” I lean toward Loki, listening to the bustle of the market around us, and at the intermittent use of English with some other language. 

“No,” he says softly, leaning back toward me. 

I straighten up, and just as we’re about to pass by a tent laden with a variety of oddly shaped bottles, a cup abruptly appears in front of me—stopping me in my tracks. I follow the finely embroidered sleeve to the face of a tall, young-looking man, with slivers of blue stripes across his skin, and short, brown hair. Beside him is another, older looking man with similar colors, sporting an astutely unamused expression as he looks between us.

“For the lady?” he says with a glimmer in his eye, even as he glances at Loki. 

I look up at Loki, and he lowers his chin with a subtle shake, peering at me intently 

I turn to the man and grin politely. “No—thank you.” 

“Hm,” I hear him mumble as I step past him. “That’s a shame.” 

I stiffen at a sudden rush of fingers sliding all the way down my backside, over the side of my hip, and… under it.

“Don’t touch me,” I warn tonelessly, feeling his fingers linger on the side of my hip.

Loki frowns indignantly and takes a step toward us.

“Oh, sure,” the man says smugly, and something inside me snaps at the subtle smirk—and demonstrative grab at my ass. 

I turn sharply, looking over my right shoulder and meeting the man’s brown eyes. The dirt slides under my heeled boots as I pivot abruptly, and send my right fist flying into the side of this face. 

Gasps erupt around us as the impact sends him flying onto the ground. He turns over onto his back and glares up at me in shock, and—maybe a hint of amusement? I look around us, and nearly everyone in sight is gaping at us both. My eyes move face to face, as the anger that was roiling in my gut slowly calms to nervousness. 

“Howdare you,” the other man looks up and sneers, kneeling down beside the man. 

My conviction quickly turns into a lack of sureness, and I have no idea how to react. I won’t apologize—so the other obvious option is to make off briskly down the path. I hardly get a chance to register Loki’s expression as I walk past him, trying to ignore the whisper, and the sound of his boots as he turns to catch up with me. 

“What a hit,” he says, appearing beside me with a gleam in his eye. “I’m impressed—where on earth did that come from?” 

I groan frustratedly, marching onward in the furthest mindset from amusement. I stop abruptly and turn toward Loki, watching the mirth in his eyes dull at the sight of my hard expression. 

“On ‘Midgard,’” I say in a soft and composed tone, while peering intently at him. “I had to defend myself from different types of monsters.”  

Loki’s brow flickers perceptively, as his smile slowly disappears. He’s trying to read me, and I don’t know whether the keen thoughtfulness in his eyes means he picked up on my implication. But either way, I’m not sticking around here to find out. I turn and keep walking—not even sure where I’m supposed to go—I just know to keep walking through the market until I disappear into the safety of the crowd.

A sudden rush of footsteps behind us proves that to have been a good idea—albeit a late one. We turn toward the sound, and find a garrison of armored men pointing and running toward us. Loki grabs my arm and pulls me forward, eyes jumping from one soldier to another, like he’s sizing them up. 

“Run,” I feel his breath on my cheekbone, just before he shoves me in the opposite direction. 

We take off running, and manage to weave between a few small alleys, knocking over merchandise, before another troop of soldiers intercepts us from ahead. We slide to a stop with just a few inches of space between us, turning our heads from side to side. 

“Lara,” Loki’s head snaps toward me, and I look up at him—at the solemn resoluteness in his pale, blue eyes. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to trust me now.” 

“What—” 

With a flash of bright green light, Loki dissipates entirely. 

My eyes bolt widen open with a gasp, and fear slams into my body as I quickly wave a hand through the air where he was standing. 

“Loki!?!” I whisper sharply. 

It’s like he was never even here…

I hardly have a moment to process it before a pair of hands grab my shoulders roughly, while another clasp a pair of heavy, metal shackles tightly around my wrists. 

“No—stop!” I blurt out. “The hell do you want!?”

“An apology,” says a deep, sarcastic voice behind me. My eyes dart toward it, toward a man striding out from behind the line of soldiers—with a red-hot cheek.

He steps closer, leaning toward. “I’m waiting,” he purrs. 

I can’t help the look of disgust on my face, so prying my mouth open takes an active effort. 

“…so sorry.” I hiss sarcastically.

His eyes narrow as his smile grows wider, and he shakes his head. “Tsk-tsk. Oh, I’m afraid I don’t believe you.”

I part my lips to respond, but another voice suddenly interjects from somewhere in the crowd. 

“That’s enough,” it says, and the man turns sharply toward it. 

A second, taller man casually steps out from behind the soldiers, and glances at me. “It’s not like you didn’t deserve it. Release her,” he says in a commanding voice.

One of the soldiers immediately unlocks my shackles, and I raise my hands to my chest, rubbing away the rawness as I step away. I glance back at them—two heavy, dirty pieces of metal that are now hanging off the soldier’s belt. 

“Fuck off, Olen,” the man sneers. 

“You first, brother,” Olen grins wryly as he steps past him, eyeing me. “And you—I thank you for the favor,” he chuckles. “It was bound to happen, only a matter of time. What’s your name?” 

I look between them for a moment, lips sealed. I can see the resemblance—the same brown hair and eyes, even the color of their tattoos, if that’s what they are. Olen’s relaxed expression is slightly more welcoming than his brother’s, invoking two separate impulses in my head: silence, or diplomacy. I wonder what Loki would choose.

“Lara,” I say, deciding that the obvious answer is diplomacy. “Mercer.” 

“Lara Mercer,” my names slips off the edge of his tongue, like one, single word. “You’re not from around here, are you?” 

I twist the corners of my mouth into a subtle grin—furthering my attempt at a pleasant dialogue. “I’m starting to think it’s obvious.” 

He grins, tilting his head downward with a nod. “I’d say assailing the crown is quite definitive of that.” 

My lips part surprisedly as I glance at the brother—staring bitterly back at me. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Olen adds, straightening up as he looks back at him, preparing to patronize him further. “I’m sure my brother will come to his sense and apologize in a few days—won’t you, Yerul?” 

Yerul cocks his head to the side, and makes a vulgar gesture at his brother. 

“I, uh…” I say nervously, as both of them turn and look at me. “Don’t need an apology. Just don’t do it again… To anyone,” I add—for emphasis.

“There you are,” Olen smiles and throws a hand up, motioning to his brother. “A conflict well-resolved—and maybe next time you’ll think twice before acting like an ass.” 

I look over at Yerul. He rolls his eyes annoyedly and turns, strutting out of the circle with a look of malcontent—as if we were the ones who caused the unnecessary fuss. Olen grins at his departure as he turns and faces me, 

“Pleasantly entertaining, my brother,” he smiles warmly. “Either way, he brought me a pleasing acquaintance with you, Lara. What brings you to Vizela?” 

I pause for a moment, looking up at him—at least now I know what this place is called. Some information is better than none, but I have no idea how much of my information is safe to share with him. There’s not a lot of time to think about it, but Loki said we needed a lead, and I’ll probably get more from him than from small talk with the shop keeps. 

“I’m actually looking for something,” I say reluctantly. “A… A very little stone.” 

“A very little stone?” he croons. “Amusing—I’m afraid we have many here,” he gestures to the market stands. 

“I know,” I nod, glancing at the crystal objects hanging and laying on tables all around us. “I saw those. No, the one I’m looking for is, uh…” I pause, pursing my lips. Olen’s brow flickers as he watches my attempt to formulate my thoughts. “Talkative?” I wince slightly.

A thoughtful nod is what I get—one that inexplicably, is not followed up by laughter… Hell, I’d laugh at me. It’s hard to sound serious when what you’re saying sounds crazy. It’s also taking an effort to keep my voice steady as I look around for signs of Loki. 

‘Let me do the talking,’ I voice him mockingly in my head… Damn it all. One of us should’ve seen this coming. 

“So the very little stone talks,” Olen says, crossing his arms as he tilts his head. “And… What does it look like?” his voice ends on a high, inquisitive note.

I crinkly my brows confusedly… He’s humoring me? Which means he’s either really nice, or really good at staying composed. 

Either way, I don’t want to make this a wasted opportunity. I could just mention something about the ‘seventh infinity stone’ and see where that takes the conversation, but… I think if Loki were here, and time stopped long enough for us to discuss, I think we’d agree to exercise more caution. 

“Well,” I sigh heavily, tucking a curl behind my ear “It’s small. Round. And a white light emanates from it.” 

Olen’s eyes narrow into two thin slits as he peers back at me.

"I see," he says, and his tone drops low. “And what does it say, when it speaks to you?”

My eyes flicker at a sudden realization—he’s not humoring me. Or being nice. No, these questions are specific—which means he knows something.

“Well, it mentioned something about…” I pause with one last consideration of whether to mention the seventh stone. “‘The edge of creation.’” 

He gazes at me thoughtfully for a moment, and his meaningful expression suddenly reminds me of Loki. Strange, because I’ve never had an acquaintance stare at me intently for so long—and so unabashedly, as these two have. Maybe it’s actually normal, and ‘Midgardians’ are actually the awkward ones. 

“I don’t know if that means anything to you,” my words trail off as I shrug, waving a hand—attempting to dispel my own awkwardness.

Ole peers at me carefully for a moment. “Lara,” he says intently with a warm, yet solemn tone. “If I’m not mistaken… I do believe that you’re already aware of what you just described to me.”

Icy nervousness bursts through my limbs as I look up at him, and shake my head slowly—trying to hide the adverse reaction.

"The god stone,” he says. 

My eyes widen with a blink.

Silence ensues as Olen's eyes pass over me, and I’m almost positive that he’s looking for some other response—some kind of demonstrable awe, or acknowledgment. I can tell by the meaningful depth in his expression, that he probably doesn’t realize how comparably little this information means to me. I still don’t know what it is, what it does, or most importantly—what I have to do with it. 

“So… the ‘god’ stone…” my words trail slowly. “Is the seventh infinity stone?” 

Olen nods incisively. “You should know, its existence is a secret—but it is the very thing that gifts this land with fertile life and soil,” he gestures to the ground around us, and I glance up at the massive trees—got an answer I wasn’t looking for. “And protects us.” 

I look back at him, tilting my head confusedly. “If it’s a secret, why would you tell me that?” 

“Well, why don’t you come with me,” he says, offering an arm. “I believe it’d be easier to answer that with a demonstration.”  [to be continued]