Finaan #2
Its face looks like Wrath’s too, except in the expressions they wear. Wregen’s beast can be soft; I’ve seen it but not often. Usually, fury and vengefulness twist his features, eyes narrow, jaw clenched, mouth sealed shut except when he attacks.
This beast, though, looks beaten down. Its eyes are shadows, brow creased, while the rest of its face is slack.
It hasn’t stopped twisting, but I realize it’s not trying to escape.
It probably abandoned that hope long ago.
Its movements appear to be reflexes, the body’s attempt to stay alive and ambulant even when the world or the gods or fates are conspiring against it.
“You shouldn’t be here.” The voice is faint, defeated, and distinctly feminine.
Ruxi’s despair washes over me, the wave of emotion so strong, it reaches to Panta and then all the way back to this cave, drowning me in the ocean of misery that fills them. They drop their chin and belly to the ground and edge closer, as unthreatening as any beast their size could be.
“He … he’ll hurt you.” The creature’s warning slithers between us, terror stark in every soft word.
“He won’t,” I assure her. “We won’t let him.” I mimic Ruxi’s behavior, advancing slowly.
“Then he’ll hurt me. Please go.” These words are tight, verging on panic.
Anger flickers along my spine at whatever trapped her here and instilled such terror in her.
“We can’t leave you,” I announce as I creep forward to crouch in front of her. “Not like this.”
“This is my fate,” she declares, “the only life I may know.”
“No,” I insist. “I won’t accept that. If we can free you, you’ll come with us.”
“Then the worlds will fall,” she tells me, so much despair in her voice, it brings a tear to my eye.
“The fates have spoken. Their weaves bind me here so others can thrive. When my body no longer feeds the earth, Ragnarok will destroy everything. The fates will be forced to start anew, casting their threads for the worlds that will be.”
“I don’t know who told you that,” Rata harrumphs, “but they lied to you. Ragnarok came and went, and we’re all still breathing.”
The serpent stops moving, a puppet whose strings were dropped. The shadows in her eyes flare into flames, which retreat almost immediately, leaving nothing but black discs. For twenty beats of my heart, nothing moves. I don’t think any of us even breathes. We’re still, waiting for her to react.
The tears that fill her eyes break the trance that seemed to come over everyone. A collective exhale bounces around us as she lifts her chin to look at the squirrel.
“Tell me you’re wrong,” she begs, a whisper in a storm. “It can’t have been for nothing.”
“I’m not a liar,” Rata responds with a shrug. “The world shook and broke open, Yggdrasill tossed me aside, and life went on.”
“He’s a liar,” Svend adds, “but not about this. Ragnarok is behind us. The worlds have changed but not as much as the fates feared. Gods, elves, humans, and everyone else still live and thrive.”
“I thought they needed me,” she rasps, her gaze bouncing between us.
“Why?” I demand. “Why would they need you?”
“I’m a lindwyrm,” she explains softly, “the last of my kind, I suspect. When others roamed Midgard, the gods grew to despise us for our gifts to their people. They harnessed all of us, bound us to serve their purposes. I was chosen to serve here.”
“Serve, how?” I push. I’ve never even heard of lindwyrms and have no idea what they’re capable of.
“We increase things,” she discloses with the barest lift of the corners of her lips.
“Whatever lies beneath us grows. I’m here because the chaos god believed the crumb of magic that reaches this place from Yggdrasill holds the jotnar at bay, keeps them from venturing into Midgard and beyond.
He left me to ensure that magic never fails. ”
“Loki did this to you?” I bark, anger at that manipulative bastard ripping through me. “He expects you to give your life to make the gods’ lives easier?” I don’t try to keep the fury from my voice.
“He promised to free me after Ragnarok.”
“Well, that’s bullshit,” I snarl, a pit forming in my stomach as I realize all she’s suffered for nothing. “We’re going to release you—fuck whatever it is he’s trying to do here—and then we can all chase revenge. He’s fucked up a lot of lives. We need to stop him, and you can help us.”
“How long?” she whispers, her words a sigh that barely reaches my ears.
“It’s been a bit more than ten years,” I tell her, “since Ragnarok cracked the barrier between Midgard and Jotunheimr. The gods defeated the jotnar, protecting Midgard and the other worlds.”
“Ten years?” she croaks, eyebrows shoving together as the pools in her eyes shatter and start to roll down her cheeks. She falls quiet again, and my heart breaks for her with every passing second.
“Then the fates are weaving new stories, creating paths for those who survived?”
“Honestly,” I answer, “I don’t know what the fates are doing. Everything seems broken.”
“If you free me, he’ll find out. He’ll punish you.” She pauses again, a tremble in her voice when she continues. “He’ll punish me.”
Ruxi rumbles, the guttural release of their anger sending shock waves to bounce off the cave’s walls.
“This dragon will stand between you and any who’d do you harm,” I tell the creature with a hint of a smile.
Again, the silence in the cave is deafening. I don’t breathe, and I’m not sure if anyone else does either. It feels like the world awaits her decision—perhaps in penance for its role in her harm.
“I’d like to be free,” she says at last, a touch less despair in these words.
“What’s your name?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
She doesn’t answer right away, as if she’s forgotten. And maybe she has. Finally, she gives me the smallest smile, her eyes clearing for the first time since we entered this cave. “I didn’t think my name would ever be spoken again,” she explains. “I am Glow.”
“Hello, Glow,” I respond with a smile. “I’m Finaan.” I point to the others, giving her their names, and then turn back toward her. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“And you,” she tells me with a blink.
Nodding, I rise to my feet and walk toward the closest chain, ignoring for now the gouges in her flesh from the decades or centuries it held her down.
We’ll deal with those next. First, we need to free her.
Ruxi, Svend, and Rata join me, the four of us walking back and forth as we search for any weakness.
It’s a single chain crossing her massive body a dozen times or more.
It must be the work of the dwarfs, because it’s thin and looks light enough to pull apart.
If it weren’t for the massive gouges in Glow’s sides, I’d take a sword to it.
But she’s been trying to break free for a very long time.
Whatever it’s made of is stronger than anything we can do to it.
Thank the gods, though, the chain runs through rings embedded everywhere it meets rock and doubles back.
It’s as if Loki intended to give Glow room to move while still keeping her trapped, but something went wrong.
Whatever the reason, if we can find a way to release one side, we’ll be able to pull it free.
That’s not an easy task. Whoever trapped Glow here never planned to let her go. The ends of the chains are attached to iron deeply embedded in the surrounding rock. Ruxi might be able to pull them out, but we’re terrified to risk doing even more harm to Glow’s battered hide.
“I’ll look,” Rata offers after a few minutes, sitting up on his hind legs to groom his whiskers. “I can go where you can’t,” he explains. “See things you can’t see.”
“It’s worth a try,” I agree with a shrug. “Maybe you’ll find something.”
He flicks his tail and scampers around the corner close to where one side of the chain is bolted. We wander around a bit more while we wait, but there’s not much we can do. We’re still hoping to pull them out without hurting Glow, and it’s looking less and less likely. So I go back to Glow.
“Can I touch you?” I ask as I sit close enough to scratch her snout.
Her expression breaks my heart. Her eyes widen, filling with tears again as her brows lift and the corners of her lips droop. It feels like she can’t believe I’d want to.
“How long has it been since you’ve felt touch from anything except this stone and those accursed chains?”
“I barely remember that time,” she tells me. “There’s only this cave, the iron that binds me.”
I stretch my hands and she extends her neck enough to meet me. And I scratch.
The moan that rumbles through her brings a grin to my face. She shifts a bit, giving me access to a spot beside her eye, and rests her chin on the ground. We sit there, Glow’s rumble filling the space around us, until Rata races back, plopping himself down right in front of me.
“We can free her,” he declares, swinging his arms wide. “And I don’t know what you would do without me.”
“Nor do I,” I assure the squirrel, reaching over to give him a scratch too. “What did you find?”
“The stone at the chain near her tail is broken. Just beneath the surface, a massive gash. The dragon can pull it out.”
“Without digging too much into Glow?”
Rata’s gaze flickers toward the worm, then back to me. “It will hurt,” he says, “but no more than it already hurts.”
“I’d like to be free,” Glow tells us again.
So we free her. Thank the gods, ruthless bastards that they are, it’s easier than we feared.
Rata tells Ruxi exactly how to pull at the iron, and it slides out quickly.
Minutes after Rata’s return, we pull the chains through their rings, freeing Glow of the prison she’s been trapped in for centuries.