Wregen #2
Finaan is hesitant at first—she deplores the idea of riding Ruxi—but she gives in.
Something about being with me makes it easier for her to accept.
We’re in the air quickly, and the wyrm stays with us, as Ruxi knew she would.
The water was one of the many places across these caves where Yggdrasill’s roots appear, imbuing it with the tree’s magic.
It restored all of us, cleansing away our wounds and every bit of fatigue, while feeding us in a way only the tree can.
The dragon and wyrm will be able to travel for a very long time, which might get us far enough away from Garmr to rest when they need it.
Unfortunately, it’ll feed and sustain the dog too. When he frees himself—and he will—he’ll follow our tracks to that pond and get everything he needs to chase us to the end of this world and into the next.
There’s a reason Hel chose him.
We’re astride Ruxi, and I’m stuck between pleasure and torment.
Literally. When we decided how we would mount the beast, Wrath popped his snout from his hole to growl at me as soon as our skjaldmaer suggested she sit between the weasel and me.
My hand flew to Svend’s throat before he’d finished a single nod of his head, striding forward to pin him to the wall as my body vibrated in fury.
Finaan yanked me away from him—even forcing me to apologize, which I had to concede was his due—and we chose different positions.
Now, my skjaldmaer is nestled in my arms, her voluptuous ass pressed against the cock that’s as confused as the rest of me.
Because every time she moves and it responds, the elf at my back shifts, sending ice to slither through my veins.
And then the squirrel bounces around, his tail slamming me in the face or tickling my ear, and my cock forgets that it ever knew how to rise.
I should have killed both of them when I had a chance.
This ride on my beast, the only one I’ll ever have, would be perfect if Finaan and I were alone.
I’m more content than I thought possible.
Certainly more than I deserve. I’ve craved this kind of connection, my mate in my arms willingly, for as long as I can recall.
Still, I’m glad I didn’t take their lives.
She’ll need their support when I die. It pleases me that she’ll have it.
I don’t know how long we’ve flown when the dragon drops into my head again.
I tire, they tell me. We’ve gone far enough. If we stop to rest and eat here, we’ll reach the others tomorrow.
Can you make it the entire way without rest? I’d prefer not to stop. I think they underestimate Garmr’s ingenuity and resolve. But if they need to stop, we will.
I cannot. Their voice is tired, and their wings have slowed over the last hour or so. They won’t make it.
Choose a cavern, then. You can sleep. I’ll watch for the dog.
You also need rest. They sound concerned for me, and I hold back my laugh.
I’ll sleep when I’m dead, I mutter. Until then, I’ll cling to every bit of life I can.
It doesn’t take long to find a place to rest. Within ten minutes or so, we’re spiraling down and unpacking for the night.
We don’t lay down right away, though. Instead, Finaan harasses us all until we’re sitting in a circle.
She wants Ruxi to tell me what they know so that everyone has a better idea what to expect before we reach the dragons.
I’m to serve as an intermediary, I tell the purple beast when we’re settled. What do the fates have planned?
The dragon watches me in silence for a moment, then dips their chin and starts their tale. I pause them every few seconds to repeat what they say to the others, and we ask a few questions, but otherwise they tell the story as they choose.
You know that Ragnarok split the world but didn’t cause the destruction the Norns predicted?
It’s a question, so I nod—as do the others when I’ve shared their words—and Ruxi continues.
The Norns helped the worlds prepare for that momentous event, spinning their weaves and placing the players where they might best serve the tree, which ever favored the gods. And they did well. The gods prevailed over the jotnar, subduing the giants and all who fought beside them.
“Including the chaos god?” Glow asks when I relay Ruxi’s words.
Including Loki, the father of the monsters who have ailed and wronged the elves.
He believed the jotnar would win. He threw himself and his brood behind them, and they continue to support the jotnar.
Hel does whatever she can from her dark world, and the serpent and the wolves cause havoc everywhere they go.
It’s why the worlds haven’t found their balance in the wake of Ragnarok.
“Does the chaos god still live?” Glow asks, her voice subdued.
He will outlive all of us, Ruxi predicts, their words pensive and sadder than I’d expect.
But little else would serve these worlds so well.
The serpent and the wolves curry your mistress’s favor, they say as they turn to me, because their father demands it.
If he died, his spawn would serve none but themselves.
Hel’s brothers would abandon her at last, limiting her reach to her accursed realm.