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As they finished teleporting Surtur away from the ruins of his invading army, Those Who Watch Above In Shadow were furious. Furious and scared. The loss of their tether within Níðhöggr had been bad. The arrival of the humans from Earth was much worse. Never had they considered that the items of power that they had spirited away from Thor before the first Ragnarök, items linked to Gaea and thus incorruptible by them, could or would ever be returned to him. They had known that the mortal known as Harry Potter was magically puissant, but they hadn't considered the idea that he could field an actual army and thus actively influence events scattered across Asgard. Now they found their latest Ragnarök utterly stalled.
Worse yet, even when they could ensnare a target from this new army before its magic-users could disrupt the spell, the illusions rarely took. Vision-based illusions never seemed to stick while sound-based ones only had a marginally better chance.
Scent-based deceptions seemed to work well, but this was countered by the fact that the Shadows didn't have much talent in that area after millennia without the necessary physical forms to make use of the sense themselves. Not to mention most humans had an extremely limited senses of smell. Even when their smell-based illusions worked, the humans tended to ignore them or see the illusions as low priority.
The Shadows had watched with interest when Malekith had used one sound-based trick to kill one of the powered Earth humans. Having seen him succeed in using illusions to mask his presence and then disastrously distract the foe, the Shadows turned a portion of their thoughts to ways they could utilize the same tactics on a larger scale.
However, the peak of the Shadow's mountain of worries was still the immediate impact the more uniform, seemingly basic Earth human troopers had on the main physical battle: Balder's avoided fate and Thor breaking free. While Potter's troops could perhaps be contained, maintained, or overrun through sheer weight of numbers, Thor's strength was such that only their two remaining tethers could even attempt to match him. Surtur could potentially overcome Thor with the help of Gungnir, even if the Thunderer wielded the real Mjolnir, as could Jörmungandr. But even so, it would be a near-run thing, and the rest of the Asgardians and humans would tip the scales in any kind of accompanying conflict.
Balder surviving was also unacceptable. His death would have given them an edge as well as formally starting the Ragnarök cycle. His death would have filled the rest of the Asgardians with fear and grief, making them much easier to harvest while locking many of the other Asgardians into their assigned roles. On the magical side, Balder's death would have also given their powers an immediate boost, his lifeforce a heady balm to their strained nerves.
But, it hadn't happened. Balder lived. And now the Bright One was slowly pulling the Asgardian Army back together, becoming the rallying point he had been during the first Ragnarök.
But really, all of that was merely on the tactical level, one of the Shadows pointed out to the others. It was on the strategic level where everything was becoming most concerning. This was because, truth be told, Those Who Watch Above In Shadow had put forth their strength to see Balder die, and much of that reserve had been expended with no real returns. It was not so much in terms of their physical forces that had been depleted, although that was also true, but in their magical reserves.
From the moment of their deal with Odin, the Shadows had been constantly fed by what amounted to a river of power. This inexhaustible energy came from their control of the Asgardians, the realms connected to Yggdrasil, and the great tree itself. That river of power became a vast tsunami when they enacted a Ragnarök, however. The deaths of the Asgardians acted much like when someone pulped fruit, allowing them to leech out more juice than slowly draining it.
However, the amount of power that river could actually allow them to take in and store was based on their tethers.
One tether was already completely unusable. Loki was well and gone, so far outside the boundaries of Earth that the Shadows couldn't even detect his presence. His loss in this manner hadn't weakened the Shadows or their reserves per say, as the tether still existed, but it had basically frozen it, stilling the flow of magic it had fed them. The tether Níðhöggr had been destroyed upon his death. This left only two tethers active, meaning the amount of power feeding into the Shadows had effectively been cut in half.
They were being fed though, and the amount flowing into them should've been enough given the deaths of the Asgardians and their followers so far. But the Shadows had miscalculated. The constant magical attacks on the Earth humans took power. Teleporting troops across the realms, particularly between dimensions, took power, as did keeping Odin from awakening and keeping the madness-hunger paramount in Fenrir's mind.
The vast oceanic reserve of magical energy that they had been existing off of was now noticeably depleted by the effort that they had put forth, without any true impact to show for it. Teleporting troops around was the only tactic they had used which had truly showed any benefit to them, allowing their pawns to kill off several of the Earthborn humans. And it was the most energy intensive.
Thankfully, the Earth humans didn't seem to be able to hinder or stop their ability to teleport their physical troops around. Also, it appeared as if none of the humans could stop them from contacting their pawns either, or from influencing the minds of those outside the telepaths' defensive umbrella. An umbrella that the Shadows were constantly pressuring.
For now, the Shadows bent their efforts to rebuilding a portion of what had been lost, using still more of their vast magical powers to rebuild a portion of Surtur's army. Creating life in such a way would cause the Phoenix Force to scream in fury, but there was little the Eternal Forces could do to interfere here in the Yggdrasil pocket dimensions… or so the Shadows hoped. These creations would have less than a fragment of the Flame Imperishable, conceived by magic condensed to a degree that few in all known creation could accomplish, but even so they would still not be as alive as the separated Asgardian aspects such as the Enchantress or the now defunct Volstagg. These jotun, created in Muspellheim where they could feed and grow without interference, would be essentially drones, unable to act or think on their own as those aspects seemed to have done against all designs.
Which was all to the good in the Shadow's great over-mind. They had no desire to see more creations acting in ways they could not predict. Such had already cost them dearly.
The Shadows also sent out mental nudges to the Stone Jotun elsewhere within Asgard to gather together. The Stone Jotun were not as deadly in combat as the smarter, more powerful, and more adaptable Fire Jotun, but the devolved version of the race that had in ancient times given rise to the Fire Jotun, the Aesir, the Vanir, and the Stone Lords could be used in even larger numbers. Numbers that could, the Shadows hoped, offset the numbers of the Einherjar and their Earth-born allies.
Yet even while that work was ongoing, one within the Shadows spoke up. This was somewhat startling. It had been centuries since the Shadows had done anything without moving in lockstep. Separate voices were unnecessary when all spoke, all moved, with one goal.
Yet the singular voice's observation was quite pointed and impossible to ignore. Beyond reinforcing Jörmungandr and Fenrir and setting some kind of trap for Potter, who they knew was heading towards Asgard the city, what were they to do?
For several moments, the Shadow Host was at a loss. Never before in their existence had the control of their playthings ever been challenged. Never before had they truly had to fight an enemy who could even inconvenience them.
Then, a thought occurred to another one of their number.
It was a thought that horrified many in the Shadow collective. That perhaps, just perhaps, the Shadows could do something that would have never occurred to any of them to do before. They could consult with their pawns and heard someone else's idea of what to do.
The debate raged for several minutes, another startling irregularity. But in the end, the exigencies of the situation demanded that Those Who Watch Above In Shadow had to change to match the new reality, or face the very real threat of ceasing.
A moment later, Surtur and Malekith found themselves freezing in space, their minds tugged into the Astral Plane. While both instantly understood what was going on, Surtur, the second willing servant of the Shadows, scowled angrily down at the dark elf who was looking around with unabashed interest. "What is this one doing here? He has not earned the right to speak with you, Masters." Surtur growled, his voice very much like molten stones being ground together even on the Astral Plane.
"I rather imagine that since your brute force method has failed, our lords and masters wanted a new perspective. And as my folk have died to help yours in that battle, oh mighty conqueror, I would say I have earned that right," Malekith answered, sneering up at the taller giant. He knew that Surtur could crush him without even trying back in the real world, but here, on the Astral Plane? He doubted it would be nearly as easy as the giant thought it would be.
"Correct," came a voice {}, and Malekith held back a shiver for a moment. It wasn't a single voice. It was a multitude, as if a flock of creatures had spoken as one. The tone was utterly alien to him, and it was accompanied by pressure on Malekith's mind and body, forcing him to submit.
Malekith was not one who would submit to anyone. If he had been, he wouldn't be king of Svartalfheim, nor would he have kept his hold on the throne for so long in the world of duplicitous backstabbing, double-dealing, and violence that defined his folk.
Yet Malekith could not stop himself. The power of that chorus was too much. He bowed his head and stayed silent as the Shadow chorus went on.
"The arrival of the humans from Midgard was unexpected. They bring numbers, tactics, weapons, and power that we are struggling to not only fight against but comprehend. You both have seen this in action on the war front, but it is much the same in other realms of combat. You are here to offer your… advice to us."
For all his anger at Malekith being present, Surtur was no fool. While he ruled his folk through strength, he knew war was just as much about preparation and the mind as power. He was also smart enough not to comment on the note of real worry he heard in the voices of his masters, something he would have thought was an impossibility given their nature.
"We have lost all ability to take the offensive in this war," he announced bluntly. "Even if you could re-create my entire army, my people are not suitable for fighting long-rang opponents who can move so quickly." The king of Muspellheim ground his teeth so hard that he might have hurt himself if he was in his physical body, but the Shadows compelled Surtur to tell the truth and so eventually he went on. "I also found myself… outmatched by one of their number when we fought for control of the ground beneath the battlefield. I know not how this happened, but it is important and will remain so for as long as the war continues in Utland."
Utland, or Outland, was the ancient name of the main dimension of Asgard. It was historically neutral ground where the
"Even my own folk failed to fight the armored humans at anywhere near an equal level," Malekith admitted, chiming in without prompting. While he felt no loyalty to the Shadows, Malekith knew he had cast his lot in with them, and it would be best to do all he could to make certain he was on the winning side. And unlike Surtur, Malekith could brownnose with the best of them if he saw the need.
"The odd weapons of the humans seem to be orders of magnitude better than our bows. And while I would wager our magic could do something, they seem well protected in that realm as well. Still, it might be our best bet on the direct combat side of things even so. However, more information about them and your own abilities would help in us giving you suggestions."
"They have several extremely powerful magic users. Two at least are far beyond yourself, equal in raw power at the very least to Odin if not an unfettered Freya. And unlike him, they have knowledge of our presence and can fight on the Astral Plane just as easily. As for more information…" The Shadows hesitated. But the threat to their existence was such that they bowed to the needs of the moment once more.
Malekith scowled at the idea of a human magic-user being beyond his own skill. But, as the Shadows explained further, he began to understand that reality as well as how they were all in the Shadow's net and for how long they had been so. Not that it mattered much to dark elf king in the end.
While Malekith was thinking, Surtur had moved on, staring at a map of Asgard and the surrounding dimensions that had appeared as he had requested it. "Your idea of bringing the stone giants to form another army is good. I think we should start to build a defensive force in depth here, at the crevice my army had to march around. It is a rocky, immensely difficult terrain. If we can create some kind of weapon against the humans and those magical carpets and—"
Having finished his own planning, Malekith interjected now. "I think the humans use some means of magic in their suits that allows them to leap and jump around. The carpets are probably just a means to cross significant distances without using up said magic. Those suits were also hard to get through, at least for blades or arrows."
"Yes, those. We need some means of striking at aerial targets better than my people's spears. And we are not natural archers. Even if you brought back those among my army who tried to train with bows, we would at best be only middling at ranged combat. A few magic users and I could offset that, but at the same time, we would be painting large targets on our backs."
"He's right. We need some means of fighting the enemy's air power. In that vein, I feel further illusions could help, specifically airborne enemies of some kind. Hiding our arrows under multiple illusions to look just like the real ones. Space them out accurately, and the enemy magic users will be forced to use multiple spells on any zone of impact," Malekith agreed, causing Surtur to look at him in surprise.
However, Surtur's surprise subsumed into rage as Malekith went on. "However, do not bring back too many of Surtur's or my own folk. I would imagine that act comes at a steep cost magically. Instead, use that power to concentrate on moving our troops around as you attempted to in the previous battle. Such a tactic will keep the troops you do bring back alive. Also, of those you do bring back, focus more on my folk, as we are used to using bows."
"You insufferable…!" Surtur raged, reaching ethereal hands towards Malekith's equally astral body, intending to crush the upstart who had openly discarded the worth of Surtur's people in favor of his own.
Surtur's rage snuffed out instantly as the Shadows spoke. "Stop. We have no more time for petty egos. Malekith is correct." Indeed, listening to the elven king, the Shadows were forced to rethink the ancient decision that had them approach Surtur instead of Malekith in the time before the first Ragnarök. At the time, it had been decided that the endurance of a tether was more important than its intelligence. Now, however, they were seriously beginning to wonder if they'd made an error.
Surtur grumbled still, but nodded. "I… agree. But it will take time, days perhaps, to gather the stone giants, force them into working together, and prepare a defense that can stop the Asgardians and the new interlopers."
"I think further that we need to no longer think of our own objectives, but rather the enemy's as well. If we are no longer strong enough to sweep the board, we have to be aware of what targets our enemies will go for," Malekith warned. "What is the human leader after? This Harry Potter fellow that you speak. Is he here just to throw his weight against Ragnarök? What does he know? What has he planned with that knowledge?"
The Shadows hesitated again, then the collective voice subsided, only one speaking up. "Too much. Potter knows of our tethers. We have sensed the humans moving towards the great ocean along with another team. Potter himself is headed to Asgard the city."
Remembering this caused a shiver to go down the nonexistent spines of Those Who Watch Above In Shadow. This campaign was already going very badly, and that was without Harry Potter and those magicals with him being able to strike at the Shadows directly. And if there was anyone amongst the Asgardians who knew enough about the Shadows to give Harry Potter some magical means to make that leap, that ability, it would be Odin.
Yet, they couldn't simply kill the Asgardian Sky Father off. Just as the Asgardians were locked into fulfilling their roles in the play that was Ragnarök by the power of prophecy and their Agreement with the Shadows, so too were the Shadows bound to not change the most important events of that calamity without abrogating their agreement. Odin had to live through most of Ragnarök and then die at the fangs of Fenrir. Just as he had the first time.
Just as importantly and more pragmatically, one amongst the Shadows pointed out, Surtur and Malekith also lacked the weapons to do so. After all, Gungnir had been made for Odin. The magic imbued within the spear, nay, the spear itself, could not be wielded against its master.
Except by that master himself of course. There was an odd story there relating to Odin's search for wisdom, but that was unimportant at present.
Perhaps Surtur's blows would harm the Sky Father, but they didn't have weeks to waste as he pummeled Odin's skull. And even asleep, Malekith's strikes, magical or otherwise, would bounce off Odin's flesh much like they would have bounced off Balder if not for the dark elf king's use of mistletoe.
Similarly, they couldn't simply control Odin as they had Freya. Odin's mind was so convoluted and powerful that the Shadows had found any successful attempt to input memories had to be done at the moment he died or was resurrected, when his mind was at its most vulnerable. Anything else would be doomed to fail, and worse, might even overcome the enchantment keeping Odin locked in sleep.
The Shadows briefly described this in their chorus voice, explaining away their inability to kill Odin without giving any hint of their own weaknesses, ending with, "We have prepared several traps within Asgard. Heimdall is our tool now, as are many of the noncombatants left within the city. They will fight Potter and his people as if they were an invading foe."
That sounded good to Surtur and the Shadows, but Malekith was in no way willing to put all his trust into any one type of solution. "I realize why you cannot kill Odin, but that is not the only thing we can do about him. We could remove him from play in other ways. Use him as a hostage perhaps, move him to Muspellheim?"
Surtur had been snarling to himself before that idea was spoken, forced to acknowledge for the first time in hundreds of years that his favored spear had been stolen from Odin and could not be used on its true master. the idea of having Odin under his power was a compelling image. "Once more, I am forced to acknowledge Malekith's crooked way of looking at things. If you cannot kill Odin where he is, then remove him elsewhere. Keep him out of play until the time is right."
The Shadows were of two minds at this point. They had very reluctantly asked these two tools for their opinions but had not anticipated getting any actual ideas out of them. How could such limited beings match the intellect of their collective wisdom? But this was proof that the creatures who served them were better at rolling with the punches than the Shadows themselves were, an annoying and worrisome thought to be sure. Both Surtur and Malekith had surprised the Shadows up to this point. But the Shadows could not follow this bit of advice. It was, "Impossible. We cannot teleport Odin from out of Asgard the city."
"Do you know what the problem is specifically? Is it something he wears, something within the walls of Valhalla, or built into the city's defenses?" Malekith persisted.
"We believe it could be all of the above. We do not know for certain. We do not know enough about Asgardian-style magic, only how to get around most of it. But teleportation is one of the few powers we have that the Asgardians can block given enough time to prepare," the Shadows answered reluctantly, pushed into it by one of their number.
This last bit was also concerning to the majority. Under the pressure of the Earthborn humans' arrival and the sudden reversal of their fortunes, Those Who Watch Above In Shadow were seemingly becoming more disparate, more individualistic, even during this single conversation. They were decidedly not used to this, and it bothered more than a few of them. But at the moment, they couldn't do anything about it. They had to win this war. For war it now was. Not a play, not an act they controlled, but an honest war.
"Then the problem can be overcome. Teleport a force to Asgard, get them through the outer defenses. Then have them keep moving Odin around until he can be teleported away," Malekith said simply.
"I can send word back to my realm and prepare a place to house the prisoner," Surtur acknowledged. "For now, I would like to contact the clan chieftains of the various Stone Jotun tribes you have compelled to join us. I need to know what I have to work with and how long it will take them to arrive at the chosen battlefield."
"And I will put myself in charge of retrieving Odin," Malekith said, tickled by the idea. "Further, we should not allow the Asgardians to become too complacent. I'm certain we can find some means of discomfiting them."
The Shadows thought, then reluctantly agreed with their tools' suggestions. Surtur soon found himself speaking mind to mind with several hundred jotun chieftains. The Shadows would teleport them to the meeting point tribe by tribe over the next few hours.
Meanwhile, Malekith found himself back in his physical body, where he looked down at his severed hand, grimacing at a sudden itching sensation that spread quickly. "GAH…." A second later, blood began to pour out of the wound he had only just cauterized. This was accompanied by immense pain, causing the dark elf to scream and fall to his knees in agony. The itching sensation increased, and he continued to scream, before a new hand burst out of the stump, regenerated like a tail on a lizard.
Before Malekith could really process this, he was teleported away, appearing on the Bifrost Bridge. After recovering from the dual surprises of his hand being returned to him and sudden change of location, Malekith stared across the bridge to Asgard the city. At the far end of the expanse he could just make out Heimdall, the All-Seeing One, standing in what the dark elf king assumed was his usual guard stance.
The ever-watchful guardian of Asgard was blind to Malekith's presence, staring up at the sky. That sight alone caused Malekith to bellow in laughter as he waltzed forward, smirking as his feet clattered on the glowing stone of the bridge. "My, my, I never would have imagined that even the eyes of you, Heimdall, could become so clouded. Then again, the eyes are connected to the mind. And, as it has been proven, that is where the Shadows are strongest. Magnificent!"
Behind him, several stone giants appeared, then more and more. The appearance of his reinforcements was accompanied by the telepathic whisper, "Potter and Hela are on their way. As we don't know how long it will take you to move Odin, we will be expanding our trap here to hold them out of the city completely for a time."
Malekith nodded, watching as the stone giants spread out. Two of them who, like their fellows, had roared and screamed at their abrupt arrival in primitive bellicosity, now subsided, standing still while their fellows moved off, creating ambush points. Staring up at them, Malekith saw no glimmer of even the tiny intelligence such creatures usually could call upon in their squinty eyes. Their wills had been utterly crushed by the Shadows. As he moved forward, a number followed him across the bridge.
Yet despite his insouciance, Malekith slowed as they reached the end of the Bifrost Bridge, wary of Heimdall somehow becoming aware of him. Few among the Asgardians would be deadlier to Malekith than this bastard, especially in close combat.
But whatever the Shadows were showing Heimdall in his mind, he seemed fully engrossed in the illusion. And seeing it up close, Malekith's amusement at the idea faded a bit. That kind of mental domination was horrifying to contemplate. Still, they are on my side, at least. And for now, my being free to act and think seems to serve them better than any attempt to turn me into a mindless puppet. And truly, do I care what happens later if I can see the Asgardians suffer now?
With that, Malekith was behind Heimdall's post and heading deeper into Asgard. Entering the city, he looked around with a smile, seeing the Asgardian's noncombatants moving about their business, seemingly blind to his presence and those of his large helpers. Amazing. Truly amazing. He couldn't stop himself and occasionally paused, stopping to grab a piece of fruit or meat from the few stalls, feeling up several ladies as he passed them, chortling to himself.
But as he spotted Valhalla, the massive –Malekith thought of it as overcompensating– hall of Odin, Malekith concentrated on what was most important. He had to follow the Shadow's orders and thus ensure his own survival. He stared at the large golden doors, then gestured at the stone giants, falling back as he looked at the area with his magical senses on high alert. "Open it."
He nodded sagely as several spell wards activated upon the jotun's approach. The giants screamed, their rocky skin freezing into actual stone before shattering. "Ah. Of course this is going to be more difficult than I could have hoped for. Ah well. To work."
Malekith leaned forward, summoning a large staff of unicorn horn and iron into his hand from his personal room back in Svartalfheim, and bent to examine the floor. Behind him, two more stone jotun appeared, looked around, and roared before falling silent, their wills instantly crushed by the Shadows and now simply awaiting orders.
OOOOOOO
Dani sighed, staring at the wreckage of the farmstead ahead of them. "Well, that didn't take very long."
"Is that good or bad?" Betsy quipped, grimacing in her helmet as another attempt from the Shadows to bore into their minds came crashing down. Closing her eyes and clenching her fists, Psylocke thrust them up into the air shouting, "Bugger off!" as she used a telekinetic telepathic bolt of power to dissipate the latest assault.
The attack, only partially dissipated, hammered down, creeping, crawling, invading their minds. Thankfully, Betsy had the home-field advantage. Much like Clea, who was still circling above the ruined farmhouse on the team's magic carpet alongside the Human Torch, she eventually beat the attack back. Charles and Emma, even from so far away, were also still able to help as well.
Still, the attack had come closer than any previous, and Dani, who was psychically aware if not truly telepathic, shook her head to clear away whatever visions had begun to creep into her sight. She narrowed her eyes as she nodded her thanks to the British telepath. "That's going to get really annoying."
"Just imagine it from my perspective luv. These probes are coming like bloody clockwork. They attack every few minutes, entirely predictable, but I can't figure out what kind of attack it will be, probing or full-bore, until it lands."
"I'm honestly more interested in how the bastards can concentrate on so many different fronts at once," Dani muttered, shaking her head. "I know that would be hard even for Harry and Charles, in their respective fields, especially at such a long range. I mean heck, where are they even situated?"
Right as she finished speaking, Dani held up a hand for silence. She reached up to her helmet, pressing a small button right underneath her jaw. With a mechanical whir, her helmet's faceplate receded, exposing her nose and allowing her to sniff the air for a moment. Taking a deep breath with ever step, she moved around the remains of the farmstead, grimacing a bit at the remains of an ox and a few goats. Nearby, the humans they'd found lay where they'd fallen, slain but not eaten.
That could be a good sign, couldn't it? Dani wondered to herself, pulling her helmet back in place, shaking her head as the wave of dizziness from Jörmungandr's miasma struck her a bit. Fenrir's not so far gone to his hunger that he's willing to eat humans yet. And we know that the whole 'eating Tyr's hand' thing hasn't happened, right? But… ah shit, does Fenrir know that? Ugh, fucking Shadows and their goddamn cheating mental control.
Kneeling down, Dani called forth her mutant powers, taking in the remnants of the emotions still hanging in the area.
"The brat was certainly here, but I cannot tell which direction he has gone. He somehow covered his scent while here and the scent of death here is so strong it is drowning it out. Tis like following someone through a slaughterhouse after they have erased their own scent." Garm grunted as he joined her, his massive nose pressing down onto her shoulder. Unlike the humans of Asgard and Midgard, the giant wolf didn't seem bothered by the poison Jörmungandr had released into the atmosphere. "What of you?"
"Wait for it…" Dani answered, dragging out the last word as she felt her power reach a crescendo. A second later the images coalesced, reconstructing the scene of destruction as it happened in a mirage that covered the area.
Fenrir stood amid the field. At his feet lay several of the animals. Behind the wolf and to the side were two men, one younger and one far older, who raced forward. The younger boy shot an arrow at Fenrir, but the arrow bounced off his thick fur. Fenrir snorted tossed the mule he'd been chewing on over the old farmer's head where it crashed with body-crushing weight onto the young boy.
The old farmer's cry of fury turned into one of anguish, but he didn't have any time to mourn. A single one of Fenrir's back paws lashed back, swiping into the farmer and sending him flying back in a welter of blood.
The memory of the farmer flew straight through Betsy, who shrieked and leaped aside, thoroughly spooked. "Bloody hell, Dani! Some warning would've been nice! Especially given the whole bloody fucking Shadows illusion bonanza we've been dealing with on and off."
The image of the farmer lay dead on the ground, overlapping its actual physical self, as Dani ignored the other woman's grumblings. Instead, she watched intently as Fenrir turned back to his meal, chewing on the goat until almost nothing was left, not even bone save for its hooves. After he was done, he spat a few bone shards out and turned so Dani was able to finally look into his eyes, wincing at what she saw there. Those eyes were not the eyes of an animal. Those were the eyes of a tortured being, one slowly being driven mad by something they could not control.
"Dammit," She whispered, "This is not going to be good."
Garm snorted, stalking his way around the image of Fenrir. A Fenrir that was far larger than he had been, now standing at least as tall as a two-story house at his shoulders and far longer than that, nose to tail. The younger wolf was still lean and well-formed, but the youth had come into what should be his full size.
"He has grown," the ancient wolf growled, sounding almost approving as he stared in the direction Fenrir had left. "His paws and body now match. And yet, his eyes…those eyes worry me."
"Worry you?" Dani grunted, shaking her head as she let her powers fade "They fucking terrify me." They almost reminded Dani of a time she'd gone with a veterinarian she was helping out to pick up a mistreated animal, a ferret whose owner had fled the state ahead of the law and, as a result, had been left behind in its cage for days on end with no one to look after him.
That ferret had the same look. A maddened by starvation look. Even after we'd given the poor thing food, we'd ended up having to put it down. It just kept biting everything. It was just too far gone; its mind couldn't comprehend anything but being hungry.
With a shake of her head, Dani banished that unpleasant memory to concentrate on her present mission. It wasn't going to happen this time. She wouldn't let it.
Dani waved down Clea, grateful that Harry had allowed them to take one of the mid-sized carpets with them. If they were going to have any chance of catching up to Fenrir, it would have to be on the carpet with Clea protecting and directing them. "Garm, I'll be relying on you to pick up the trail, I can't see enough from the air to make out anything but the most obvious signs."
There was, after all, more to tracking than just scent. There were pawprints, broken branches, torn bark and many smaller signs. Things that even a animal with the intelligence of Fenrir would not cover up all the time. And there was also the possibility that Fenrir's supposed bath – or whatever trick he had used to mask his scent – would fade.
Garm grunted in affirmative and took off through the woods. While the others hovered above him, he weaved this way along the direction Fenrir had left the farm. Not thirty minutes later, he huffed, gesturing with a paw that the others should come down to speak with him for a moment. "I've found the trail. It's almost arrogantly straight, heading directly southeast. He hasn't deviated or changed direction for the last few sniffs."
'Is that the same direction as Asgard the city?" Betsy asked, looking over at Dani for confirmation. She was grateful for the temporary lull in the probing attacks sent her way. The Shadows hadn't sent anything her way since they'd left the farm.
Garm, who'd spent most if not all of his existence in Niflheim after bonding with his lady Hela, had no way of knowing the answer to that question. It took asking Emma, who was currently in charge of backing up Betsy, to contact Freya and Steven before the group of wolf-hunters could figure that one out. Eventually, through a series of questions and a compass, the hunters deduced that Fenrir wasn't heading towards Asgard at all. Instead, he was slowly circling back, heading towards the crags and hills that would eventually be interrupted by the gorge where Balder had first made a small stand against Surtur's invasion.
"Huh, so maybe Fenrir still has some self-control left," Dani mused. "That's not an area with many farms or anything else, right?"
"Queen Freya says there's not," Emma answered, having pulled the words from Dani's mind even as she said that to facilitate faster communication. "There are a few stubborn folk still out there to the far northwest, but not many. The Fire Jotun army's invasion might have led to the south, but even so, everyone was aware of it as fast as the scryers could carry the news."
"That's good then. Maybe we have a chance at this not becoming a fight," Betsy mused. As the words left her mouth, Betsy felt Clea, Dani, and even Johnny staring at her incredulously from where he flew alongside the carpet. Under the pressure of their combined gazes, Betsy sighed. "Yeah, I didn't believe it even as I bloody said it. Still, remember we can always break off, yeah? Fenrir can't fly. So whatever happens, we should be able to keep the initiative, right?"
"…Just stop, Bets. Please?" Dani pleaded. "You've already tempted fate enough as it is." After Betsy ruefully agreed to that, Dani went on. "And ask Emma what's been going on with the main battle. The not knowing is killing me."
The news they received sobered the small group quickly, and they sped on, following Garm through the woods in silence.
OOOOOOO
Nikolai's death shocked Harry when he first learned of it. While he hadn't been as close to the former Winter Soldier candidate as he was to Piotr, Harry had known him long enough to know he'd been a good man, who rarely balked at whatever manner of combat that came his way. He'd been a good man to have a drink with too, and he'd been truly devoted to his sister and friends.
He was also the first Custodes that Harry had lost under his command, and that hit him just as much as the loss of a friend. Harry had lost troops before, but this hit him harder.
Harry and Hela continued to fly towards Asgard in silence for a time before Harry decided to bite the bullet rather than let the unspoken idea fester any longer. Reaching out to Jean through her link with him, he made sure everyone connected could hear him speak before clearing his throat. Hopefully this would be able to put the idea to rest. Sometimes false hope is worse than none, after all.
Looking over at Hela, he asked hesitantly, "Do you think there's any chance of bringing Nikolai back to life? I mean, the Einherjar is composed of the spirits of dead warriors brought to Valhalla and given a second life, so…?"
"Hmm… I am afraid not," Hela answered after thinking about it. "After all, Nikolai was not an Asatru. He was also not an atheist. Indeed, I know for a fact Nikolai was staunchly Russian Orthodox. As such, his soul is not fair game. I'm sorry, my love. If Odin had been awake and watching for moments like this, we could've perhaps gotten in touch with Nikolai's spirit before it passed on to the Christian version of Heaven. But even that is doubtful."
Harry scowled, fists clenching, but nodded in understanding. "Understood, Hela. It bothers me, of course, but this is war. In war, people die. Good or bad, doesn't matter. Thinking otherwise would be foolish." Harry's eyes hardened. "Although that doesn't mean that I'm not going to hunt this Malekith down and crucify him."
Hela snorted." And do you expect me of all people to stop you?"
"No, although, if I do go haring off after him, I do expect you to pull me up short if, in doing so, I begin to ignore something more important," Harry answered seriously.
Hela became serious as well, reaching out and touching Harry's shoulder as the two of them flew side by side towards the distant Bifrost Ridge and Asgard the city behind it. "That, I will do with vigor. Just remember that young Nikolai died as a warrior. What else can one ask for?"
"To die of old age, surrounded by your grandchildren, having expired of a heart attack after a vigorous night's romp," Harry shot back, trying to use humor to push through the pain of losing one of his own.
As they finally started to leave the flatter (in comparison only) portions of Asgard behind and begin flying over a mountain range, Harry asked Jean to pass on any other news going on elsewhere. She answered back with a summary that boiled down to the telepathic attacks were ongoing, but the main battle had died down. "Steve and Balder are regrouping our forces and the remaining Einherjar. The Einherjar want to march back to camp instead of being ferried on the magic carpets, a sign of their anti-magic feelings, I suppose. On a somewhat bittersweet note, Freya and Amelia feel that they are close to finding an antidote to Jörmungandr's miasma…. thanks in part to the poison they collected from Nikolai's wound."
It wasn't enough that Nikolai had been stabbed in the throat so hard that the strike had nearly decapitated him, The blade that had done the deed had been soaked in poison as well. That poison had fought Una and Amelia's every effort as they'd tried desperately to save the Russian Custodes despite the massive trauma to his neck, but in the end they'd failed. Nikolai had been brain dead within seconds of his arrival, his heart had stopped soon after.
"Well… I think perhaps Nikolai might have approved of that," Harry murmured. "How many other men did we lose?"
"Six Heavy Gunners and ten regular ODMs were ported back to us here at base camp. According to Scott, two more Heavies and four other ODMs died before they could be as well. Did you know that Steve left Scott in charge of the ODMs as he headed down to the ground?" Jean's telepathic voice sounded somewhat bemused yet also proud for her old team leader and friend. "He really stepped up to the plate."
"He can surprise you like that, yeah," Harry answered, also proud of how far the young man had come since they'd first met. Harry would still name Steve or Amara his second in command any day, but Scott was easily the next best, and had more experience than Amara too. "What about the rest of the Custodes?"
"Banshee took an arrow to the knee, so no more adventuring for him for awhile, and Nightcrawler picked up a few cuts and bruises. Piotr is… well, pissed is a nice way of putting it. But Amara's watching him. We've sent also sent Polaris out with a shipment of ammo for the ODMs. So far, it seems like we've got everything under control here."
"Good. But tell Steven to keep you informed of any changes on the magical side of things. I don't want any of us blindsided. Now that the Shadows have lost the main battle, there's a definite chance they'll shift their attention to Team Fishermen, Hela and myself. They might even lash out at Dani and her team if they figure out what they're up to."
"Then you better watch out, mister. I've got your back on the Astral Plane side of things, but you have to watch out for all the magic and physical stuff. Ororo's a big girl, and she's got a full team watching out for her. If that wasn't enough for me, I can also follow them just like I can you two. But in the real world, you and Hela are on your own," Jean warned, her concern and love coming through their link easily. Emma added in her own admonishments, although she was busy helping Charles beat off the latest attempt from the Shadows to get through to the minds of the Einherjar at the front.
"True, Firebird, but we are mighty!" Hela shot back with a laugh.
That was a message Harry was fully in favor of.
"Yes, we are mighty. And while our strategy might have sidelined Hela and me before this, I am very much looking forward to proving that point to the Shadows as soon as possible. Not as directly as I might wish, but blasting through whatever traps they have around Asgard the city and freeing Odin should get the point across just as well."
Harry let the conversation fade with that bloodthirsty thought as Jean turned her attention more fully to Ororo and protecting Team Fisherman. As she did, Emma directed her own energies to adding Thor to her protective psychic umbrella.
Enraged beyond all reason, the now fully empowered Thunder God had taken off towards the where Muspellheim was closest to Asgard immediately after the main battle had ended. Emma was trying to get through to him, but that was an uphill battle, as Thor was noticeably paranoid about voices in his head. Worse, the Shadows had already begun to use illusions to cloud his senses. Now Thor and his chariot were just wondering around, straining Emma's telepathic powers to keep him safe, let alone steer him in the right direction. "Maybe we can send Strange out there once you or Clea get back, but we need to wait until then or else leave the base camp without magical protection. And Freya and the others have already proven to be far too susceptible to the Shadows' brand of magic, be it on the Astral Plane or in the real world."
Frowning, Harry and Hela flew on, racing across the realm of Asgard as they pondered what to do about the wayward Thunderer.
OOOOOOO
Unfortunately for Balder, Steve, and their troops, their day's work wasn't quite done.
The Shadows had decided that Malekith had been right: they needed to annoy and pressure their enemies any way they could. This meant, among other things, pulling spells from the Asgardian's own playbook, particularly one that would have made Hela, Freya, and even Odin enraged beyond all reason if they were at the front lines to witness it; the awakening of the dead into draugr.
As Emma reported to Harry about Thor, Steve was talking with Scott and Balder. The two humans were trying to convince the Asgardian prince about the existence of the Shadows, the overarching enemy orchestrating events here in Asgard. Balder wasn't convinced bytheir arguments, and neither were many of the other Asgardians. Each and every one believed that Odin and Heimdall, at the very least, could never be so influenced, so dominated by some unknown foe.
However, not all were deaf to the warnings. Sif and Tyr remembered their own concerns regarding some outside force trying to bar their path to and from Yggdrasil's roots and worked on their fellows to see the human's position. Thor's bellowing about there being a true enemy out there, as the Thunderer had flown away after somehow changing from the blonde Balder had always known him to be into a flamehair, was also undeniable.
Ever so slowly, Steve could tell Balder and the others were beginning to waver when there came a series of loud, unsettling groans. These sudden groans were soon followed by bellows of fury. Most of that bellow was wordless anger given voice, but within the rising uproar could be heard certain distinct grievances such as, "What foul magic is this!" and "How dare someone in this land of Lord Odin use magic so vile!" and "How dare the jotun defile our honored dead!"
Twisting around, Balder's eyes widened in horror as he watched the numerous corpses of the dead rising from where they had fallen all across the blasted, scarred battlefield. No attempt to bury the dead had yet begun, nor had there been any attempt to collect their broken weaponry. Many of those weapons were riven, shattered, the magic upon them like their armor, the spells cast on the armor and blades of the defenders of Asgard overcome during the battle. However, in the hands of these empowered undead, even broken weapons would still be deadly.
This was proven true quickly enough as one of the karls, having been moving among a group of the dead searching for a friend, found himself stabbed through the stomach. Cracked and half broken, the blade punched through the man's armor, the enchantment of which had likewise faded during the battle. And alas, un-enchanted armor could not hope to stand against a draugr's unnatural strength. The karl had time to screame, and then the undead was upon him, leaping forward to tear chunks of his face-off and stuff the raw flesh down its now ravenous maw.
Elsewhere, other warriors moving amongst the dead were likewise quickly overcome. This included several of the Orbital Drop Marines who had been helping the wounded or simply mingling in with the Asgardians. Those without any specific duties had been, by and large, just trying to get an idea of what the overall battle had been like before they had arrived.
Caught unaware and in close combat, the ODM armor was no defense against the newly risen draugr. The undead latched onto the Earthborn humans even as they fired wildly into the reanimated bodies, trying to put them down again. While some draugr lost arms or bits of their torsos, the armored troopers were quickly being overcome. First one man went down, his heart torn from his chest so quickly and brutally the emergency evacuation runic array didn't have time to react. Another screamed as his faceplate was crushed under a blow from another walking corpse, only to disappear in a rush of magic. Luckily, he ended up back at the base camp, saved by his emergency teleportation array.
Fortunately, there were those still in the combat zone who could fight the draugr. Laura and Logan had been more or less sidelined up to this point, having been dumped outside the original battle in order to try and cut off Surtur's retreat in conjunction with the Huntress, Skadi. That hadn't panned out, but all three had returned to the camp at this point and now the claw-wielding duo howled in unison before launching themselves into the fray. Behind them, Skadi too attacked, a long spear in hand, her eyes grim.
The combined response from the father-daughter pair and the Goddess of the Hunt was so fierce to the undead that it lured several more draugr to them, allowing a few of the scattered ODMs to retreat in relative peace. Banshee and Cannonball also launched themselves into the air, although both soon found themselves stymied. Banshee's sonic booms could barely stagger the undead, and caused them no real harm, while those still living and draugr were too intermingled for Cannonball to help much in the main battle.
A second later, Cannonball bolted away at a barked command from Cyclops through their radio, racing off to make sure the still-distant Heavy Gunners weren't also being attacked. As Nightcrawler took in the rising chaos and bamfed , Colossus and Captain America charged forward, one to help a group of struggling Einherjar, the other to put his shield between the draugr and a few of the ODM troopers who had been using first aid on the locals.
Several ODM troopers were teleported away, either by Nightcrawler or their emergency arrays, until their comrades still up on the magic carpets could start giving the remainder cover fire. The company captain and sergeants, only one of whom had been lost so far, quickly began to organize a withdrawal upwards, while their fellows tried to give those on the ground time to regroup from the sudden surprise attack with the aide of Falcon.
Cyclops bellowed something, the words lost at first in the tumult of the renewed battle. His eye beams flashed out in a circle pattern following the twisting of his neck, blasting dozens of undead back, some of them even coming apart under the sheer kinetic impact. It was only a few seconds later when his words could finally reach those around him. "Fall back! All troops fall back to the north. Oh Damns, get into the air and stay on the heavy carpets. Heavy Gunners, remain at long range or get there. Lay down suppressive fire! We can't fight these things in close combat!"
"We're nearly out of ammo, sir!" Sean called back through the coms.
"Keep firing, damn it, we can't let the Asgardians fight their own dead on their own!"