Fic: Hearts and Lies (Frostiron) 4/13

[bookishwench]

The morning after his dinner with Anthony, Loki went to Thor with the issue of trying to collect the dust from one of the enemy weapons. Thor looked grim.

“I shall inform the warriors of this endeavor,” Thor said, “and I shall attempt to do as you ask, but it is no easy task to pocket mere ash in the midst of a battle. Attention is usually elsewhere, such as keeping oneself alive.”

“And by doing this, so you shall,” Loki said.

“True enough, brother,” Thor said. “If it can be done, it will.”

Whatever differences lay between them, Loki had no doubt Thor would do anything up to and including sacrificing himself for the benefit of his shield brothers at the nearest opportunity, and one presented itself swiftly. Less than a week later, a group of about a hundred pirates went so far as to try to attack Asgard itself. Heimdall had seen them from a good distance, and the attack was doomed to failure, but not so quickly as it should have been. Before the end of the battle, ten Einherjar lay dead, and both Hogun and Fandral were wounded. It was a strange projectile from Hogun’s injury that Thor was able to grasp before while it reduced to cinders, and he carefully swept them into a pouch at his side.

“Brother!” he called in the relative quiet after the fight was over. “I have what you sought!”

Loki, who had been called out to fight along with the rest of the warriors since an attack on Asgard required his presence, moved Thor to a less exposed spot. He quickly grasped the bag his brother offered him.

“Did you see what sort of weapon it was?” Loki asked.

“Briefly,” Thor said. “Hogun appeared to have been struck with an arrow, but it was unlike any I have seen before. It was longer, though not so long as a spear, and its color was deep black, but it did not seem to be forged of iron. I believe its explosion caused a worse wound than its penetration.”

“A projectile incendiary,” Loki said, frowning. It was strangely like one of Anthony’s designs, though some of the details were markedly different.

“Is it what you needed?” Thor asked.

“I hope so,” Loki said, then added, “And Hogun?”

“I believe he shall live,” Thor said, but worry creased his brow.

“I hope so as well,” Loki said, then vanished.

He reappeared in Anthony’s workshop a moment later, and his abrupt arrival prompted a scream from Peter, who toppled off his stool by the fire. Normally, he would have had to stifle a chuckle, but Loki was in no mood to laugh.

“Anthony!” he called, and the man entered through the back door at full speed.

“Are you well?” he asked. “This battle was not something I foresaw.”

“I am fine, but we have the ash from one of the weapons,” Loki said, handing him the pouch. “I do not know what it will reveal, if anything.”

“It’s worth a try,” Anthony said, bringing out a clean sheet of parchment and scattering the cinders from the bag onto the paper.

At first glance, they discovered nothing remarkable. The dust was uniformly black as soot, fine as powder, but it carried a strange odor.

“Do you smell that?” Anthony asked.

“Yes,” Loki said slowly. “It’s familiar.”

“It should be,” Anthony said, turning around and taking a large, sealed container from the other side of the workshop. “It’s Alfheim oak. I use it myself in some of my work. It has a peculiarly bitter scent when burned.”

“So the weapon came from Alfheim?” Peter asked.

“Too quick a judgment,” Loki said to him over his shoulder. “It’s possible, but anyone can buy this material. It’s not illegal to own or sell, so a buyer anywhere could have purchased it.”

Peter looked a little disappointed, but then all of them had been hoping for a more definite answer.

“There’s something else,” Anthony said, examining the ashes carefully. “The coloration is odd.”

“It’s black,” Loki said. “What’s odd in that?”

“Alfheim oak doesn’t usually turn pure black when burned. It’s a very dark gray, but not this dark. This is mixed with something else, but I don’t know what,” Anthony said, grimacing.

“It may not be a physical substance,” Loki said. “Certain spells and charms can change an item’s attributes down to the molecular level, particularly ones that involve camouflage or visual transformation.”

“So it might be magic?” Peter said, more carefully than before.

“Yes, possibly,” Loki said, “but there would be residual energy left from such a spell. I may be able to check for that, but I don’t have the necessary equipment and ingredients here. I would need to bring this back to my own chambers in the palace.”

“Then do so,” Anthony said. “The sooner we find out what’s happening, the more lives may be saved.”

Loki silently added that the sooner their work was done, the sooner their long-delayed courtship could begin in earnest, but he fought down the more selfish reason, took hold of the bag containing the remaining ash, and teleported to his rooms.

Because he was unsure what he was looking for, the tests Loki had to use were not only difficult, but also time-consuming and required a complete lack of interruption. Loki placed wards on his door, making it clear not even to knock or the result would be dire. For three days, he sifted through every fragment of ash. Incantations, spells, herbs, gemstones, chemicals, and a wide variety of other tricks of his magic were employed until, at long last, he was certain. The weapon had indeed been enchanted, and the mage’s spellwork had left a clear signature. Loki was familiar with the pulsing violet-colored energy that infused the ash; it was the work of a particularly vicious practitioner rumored to have come from Niflheim. Their name was unknown, but every object they created was filled with magic so dark even Loki shuddered. However, at last, they knew the culprit.

Sleep, food, and a long soak in a hot tub sounded beyond lovely as it had taken three full days and nights without any of them to get the results, but Loki needed to report this to his father at once. He opened the door for the first time with a sigh of relief and a sense that all would be well until he saw Thor standing against the wall on the other side of the corridor. He looked like he had been there a long time, and his face was grim.

“I know who is forging the weapons,” Loki said.

“So do we,” Thor said. “It is Anthony Howardson.”