Mischief Will Out
Amber Castle/Germania, early-January
January in Amber City, and about the only thing you can do in the evening is curl up with a book in front of the fire. Especially when your best friend and occasional lover is keeping their head down having done something rather rash.
Sometimes I regret not being down in Port Royal. However, it doesn't seem particularly sensible for both me and the King to be out of the City for any length of time, especially given that Random was sponsoring trouble again just a few weeks ago. Maybe the odd occasion, like my grandfather's wedding (which worked out so well for everyone concerned), but certainly not longer than overnight. And with most of the rest of the Court having no such qualms about flying south for the winter, it's rather lonely in Amber just at the moment. Even Ian and Armand are away, as they do military thing down in Chaos. The only one of my immediate family who's even called in in the last few days has been Artur, and he didn't exactly cover himself in glory on New Year's Day, when he was involved in an incident in one of the taverns in town.
After dinner in the main Dining Room, I'd grabbed a novel from the library and headed back to my quarters, where Ava berated me as I walked through the door. It probably hasn't been that much fun for her, moving to Amber, but I didn't want to leave her on Tenterden when, to all intents and purposes, I don't live there anymore. I'm sure Ian would have happily kept her at Wittersham House, but when all's said and done, she's mine, not his, and having her for company got me through some very difficult times.
It wasn't so bad for her back in the summer, when I could leave my windows unshuttered, and she could stretch out on the windowsill, occasionally taking a swipe at a passing bird. However, in winter in Amber City, that just isn't practical. So about the only amusement she gets is sneaking out of the door when I'm not looking, and wandering the Castle hallways. But even then, she says she always needs to watch out in case someone steps on her...or one of my cousins decides to use her for target practice.
I poured myself a glass of Balvenie from the decanter on the sideboard, and then curled up in my favourite chair by the fire. Ava was snuggling into my lap before I'd even opened the book. It was an adventure story, set during a fictionalised version of the Civil War, in an imaginary (presumably...I hadn't heard of it before) Golden Circle world called Valloran. The hero worked for the Flame King, and spent his time causing trouble for the forces of the Black Usurper and his lieutenant, the Pirate Prince. And surprisingly, for propaganda, it was actually pretty decently written.
Soon I was engrossed, partly lulled by the purring from my lap. So it was a moment or two before I realised that the headache I could feel building was actually a Trump call. Once I'd cottoned on, though, I put the book on the table beside my whisky glass, and felt for the contact. It was quite weak, as if it was coming from a long way away, which given what was going on just now, probably meant it was either Ian or Armand.
Given the likely binary nature of the call - we've won/we've been crapped on, get us out of here - I moved the still sleeping Ava to the arm of the chair, and then stood up. She grumbled slightly, and then stretched back out to balance herself. I scratched her between the ears, and then opened up the call.
It was Armand. He seemed unhurt, if tired, but he was pretty much holding vertical a tall figure wrapped in a blanket. My little brother Artur from the unmistakeable curly strawberry-blond hair that was just visible.
Why were the pair of them even in the same place, when they were supposed to be at opposite ends of the universe? And why did Armand look quite so freaked out?
"What on earth have you been doing? I thought you were supposed to be in Chaos."
"I am in Chaos," he answered.
"But, Artur..."
My brother looked up at me, and I was shocked at the state he was in. His eyes looked sunken, and from their unnatural brightness and sheen of sweat over his face, I guessed he was running a fever.
"I'll explain later, Dad," Armand said, with some urgency, "But for now I need for you to pull him back to Amber."
He seemed in deadly earnest, so there wasn't really much else I could do.
"Of course," I answered, and reached out to support Artur.
I put my hands on his shoulders and gently pulled him towards me. He took a single step, and then I saw his irises roll up into his head, and he was sagging in my arms. But the thing that scared me most was that, just for an instant, I had the distinct impression that it was someone else behind his eyes.
I put him gently into the chair I had just vacated, then turned back to my son.
"What happened?"
"I'm sorry. I really don't have time right now. Artur just did something...unexpected. Ian's called a war council, and I have a horrible feeling that all Hell is about to break loose down here. I suggested he stay down here, but thought he'd be better off in Amber, as he could control it better."
Control what better? I stared at Armand, and was startled at how tired he looked. Given the distance, the call must be costing him a lot of energy. I needed to let him go.
"I'll look after him. And you, be careful."
"I will," he replied, "thanks, Dad."
And the link went down.
When I turned back to Artur, I saw that Ava had woken up and was sniffing him, experimentally. Then she turned away from him, wrinkling her nose, as if she didn't like something she'd smelled. Puzzled, I picked her up.
"What is it, little one?" I thought to her, gently.
"He smells burnt," she answered, as she nuzzled against me neck, "it's not right. He's not right."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Just not right. Fire. And ice. And not right."
So much for trying to get a straight answer out of a cat.
I put her on the table, and she jumped down to see if there was anything interesting under the settee. Then I reached my hand out and felt Artur's forehead. He was burning up, and seemed to be rambling in a language I didn't immediately recognise. And then it dawned on me what it was. One of the Old Germanic dialects.
What now? Ian's the doctor, not me, but by the sound of it he was rather busy. The next obvious option was to take Artur to the infirmary, but whatever he'd just done, it had got Armand worried. What was it that my brother, possibly one of the most self-disciplined people I've ever met, couldn't control? Until I figured that out, it probably wasn't safe to take him to the infirmary, either, in case it happened again.
I settled on taking him to the ‘guest' bedroom off my suite (privileges of rank: I get somewhere I can put up guests of my own, if I want them) because if something went very wrong, at least I could contain the damage. As I carried him through, I heard a curious meow from the doorway, but I didn't want to turn around just then, and risk dropping him. I gently laid him on the bed, and then started checking him out using the Pattern.
All was definitely not well. In fact, I'd never seen anything like it, even during my lessons with Aunt Fiona. The co-joined Patterns within him - Amber and Brandenburg - were writhing, as if they were trying to protect themselves and fight off an interloper. And what worried me even more was that said interloper seemed to be the Asgard Sign.
How was that even possible? Artur isn't an Asgard initiate.
Drawing on the extra awareness that being an initiate of the Jewel gives me, I reached out to him, and gently started trying to impose my will on the battling Signs. My concentration wasn't helped when Ava jumped up onto the bed. But before I could put her back on the floor, she wriggled up to Artur's head, and gently rested her paw on his cheek. Obviously she had a reason, so I left her to it and started the process of trying to isolate the Asgard Sign.
Then I heard a startled mew, and within a split second, my little cat was bolting out of the room, her tail doing the bottle brush thing. I looked at Artur, and saw that his eyes were open and he was watching me. Except, as before, I got the distinct impression that it wasn't him looking out from them.
"Hello, Freyr," he said, his tone chilly with a hint of sarcasm, "having fun with the lovely Freya are you? I do so love seeing siblings getting on so very, very well."
"You're mistaken," I answered, coldly, "there's nothing like that going on."
"But I bet you wanted to, didn't you?" he taunted, "I know this one did."
"You're not Artur. Who are you?"
"You may be ruler of the sun and rain, but you were never very bright, were you?" he answered, and chuckled.
It wasn't a very pleasant sound, but combined with the supercilious look on his face, it instantly told me who I was talking to.
"That isn't possible," I protested, "you're in Asgard."
"Not anymore," he answered, sitting bolt upright, "Good things come to those who wait. And I'd waited long enough."
The voice was Artur's, and yet there was a different tone to it. It was rounder, stronger, almost like an actor declaiming lines.
"Waiting for what?"
"Freedom...revenge...showing that self-important, half-witted idiot who calls himself Wotan what a real ruler is. Or perhaps all of the above."
"Get the Hell out of my brother."
"I don't think so," he answered, "my previous body was a prison. An inferior shell foisted on me by my dear adoptive father. It was little better than those of the pathetic mortals of Midguard. But this one ..."
He looked at me, a disturbingly manic expression on his face, and then studied his hands. Moments later, they erupted into flames, and yet there was no smell of burning flesh. Then he smiled as he watched the flames die back, to leave his hands completely undamaged.
"This vessel has far more potential. Young, strong, powerful, a true descendent of Odin. This is where I belong, and oh, what potential glories it could bring me."
"Let him go," I demanded.
"That sad, tight-wound little soul? I'm afraid he's not here right now. And even if he was, why on earth would you want him back? He can't even enjoy himself without getting a guilt trip the following morning. It's pathetic. This is a body that's meant to be enjoyed, not be ashamed of. And with me in the driving seat... Oh Freyr, the mischief we could get up to, you and I."
At which point he swung his feet round onto the floor, and stood up, stretching like a cat and all but purring. So I did about the only thing I could think of. I slugged him one.
Apparently my little brother has a glass jaw, as he crumped into an ungainly heap on the floor. I definitely wasn't taking him to the infirmary now. Not while he was inhabited by an insane Asgardian with a penchant for fire. In fact, I seriously debated throwing him back in his old cell. But what would that do to Artur, if he was still in there somewhere?
It was obvious that somehow I needed to exorcise the spirit that had taken control of him, and separate the Signs within him. But while I could deal with the latter, messing with spirits was way beyond my ability as a ritualist. I was going to need help, and with Ian and Armand busy, Geran having been less than successful the last time he did anything with souls, and Artur out for the count, that pretty much left my other grandfather.
I pulled my brother into the recovery position, so he wouldn't choke, and then, hoping he'd be okay for a couple of minutes, went across to my study. I dug my Trump deck out of the drawer where I usually kept it when I'm in my rooms. Moments later, I was concentrating on Dieter's Trump.
"Wolfgang," he said with a smile, as the link opened and he recognised me, "what a pleasant surprise. How are you?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you enjoying the joys of the Amber winter."
"The skiing's not bad. But the rest of it is pretty unpleasant."
"Too cold. Too damp...not like Bavaria, eh?"
"No."
"You're always welcome to come to Germania for some decent snow," he said, with a half-smile, but then it was gone, and he was his normal self, "But I'm guessing that you didn't call to get the ski report. You never do."
"I need your help."
"Oh? Problems in Amber?"
"After a fashion. I have a vengeful Asgardian unconscious on the floor of my guest bedroom, and I need to do something about it."
"Been arguing with our dear Uncle Magnus? I can certainly see why he's vengeful. But I'm not sure what I can do to help."
"It's not Magnus, it's Artur. I think he's possessed."
I saw his expression change, and suddenly, rather than amused, he looked concerned.
"Any idea by whom?"
"Yes. But I really, really hope I'm wrong."
"What would you have me do?"
"I need somewhere safe to work, and any help you can give me."
"Are you willing to come to the Wewelsburg?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll head down there, summon the Circle, and then call you back."
"Okay, but please make it quick. I'm not sure how long I can keep him out for."
"Understood."
He broke the contact, and I stuck my cards back in my drawer. I could get myself back to Amber without them if I needed to, and there was no point having them anywhere on me if there was any chance Artur's uninvited guest might grab them.
I took my honour dagger out of its box and attached it to my belt - the only concession to uniform I cared to make just then - and went back into the bedroom. My brother was still lying where I had left him, a bruise now purpling on his jaw. I put him back on the bed, and then sat down to check him over. His pulse was thready, but at least his body temperature was something more approaching normal.
I brought up the Pattern again, and could see that for now, at least, the two Signs had stopped fighting. However, I was left with the impression that this was because the Asgard one had changed tactics, and was attempting to gain control by stealth, rather than an all-out fight. Which, from what I remembered of the Eddas, was the exact approach favoured by Artur's unwanted guest.
If I'm being honest, some of what Artur has studied and dabbled in scares the crap out of me, and this seemed like more of the same. Had he finally tried something he thought was clever, bitten off more than he could chew, and was now paying the price? Sadly, it seemed only too possible.
"What the Hell did you do, little brother?" I asked him, quietly.
Thankfully, I got no response.
* * * * * *
Dieter got back to me about ten minutes later, during which time I was rather surprised to see said bruise moving rapidly through purple, tight red and swollen, to blue, and then towards yellow-green. And I heard a slight groan from him, and spotted a change in his breathing.
"Not a moment too soon," I said as I answered the call, "I think he's waking up."
I picked Artur's body up in a fireman's lift, and then held out my hand to Dieter and stepped through. The first thing my grandfather did on our arrival was hit him with a sleep spell, and his body went limp once more.
We were in a room I'd never been in before, although it reminding me very strongly of the temple under the Wewelsburg on Tenterden, in both appearance and overall feel of the rituals that had been carried out in it. Here, though, the floor was dressed stone, rather than unfinished. As I reached out my Pattern senses, I confirmed that we were on Germania. I glanced around and saw an altar and a couple of small cupboards either side of it, presumably for storing the ritual components. A permanent circle was inlaid in silver in the floor, marked with runes.
By the altar I saw one of Dieter's people, robed and wearing a silver stole around his neck. He seemed to be casting rune stones. A short while later, he picked them up, bagged them, and then turned to Dieter.
"Kenaz. Hagalaz. Mannaz."
Dieter looked at me, concern on his usually passive face, and mouthed the name of the entity I believed had taken control of my brother (presumably because he didn't want to risk saying it aloud). I nodded in response, and saw his jaw tighten. I cast my eyes around the circle for anywhere where those three runes might be at least vaguely close to each other, but my grandfather already knew where to look.
"Lay him here," he said, moving across the floor and indicating a location.
I did as I was told, and then stood protectively over my brother's body. Dieter placed himself opposite me, with the other upright members of the Group surrounding us.
"What I want to try requires a full Circle. I'll need you to take his place," he said, quietly, "can you do that?"
"Yes."
"Good. My idea is to use our connection to him, as a member of the group, to try to strengthen him and give him the energy to force out the interloper. If you're right, and this is a possession, our combined forces ought to be able to banish it from him. And hopefully, that will bring Artur back to us."
"It's worth a try," I agreed. After all, while Artur undeniably had a strong mind, there would be thirteen of us, including me and Dieter, "but we might not have all that long."
"Then let's begin."
I joined the Circle, and we began to call up the energy to enact Dieter's plan. However, I couldn't help being relieved that there was no sign of anyone being sacrificed to help the process along. The words came to me surprisingly easily - after all, I was technically an initiate of the group - and I felt the link between me and my brother, given that our blood has a lot of correspondences.
However, it wasn't long until I could feel the Patterns becoming active once more. I didn't know whether were trying to defend him, or possibly because the Asgard Sign sensed that its host was under attack, but I knew we were out of time. Not seeing I had any choice, I stepped into the centre and knelt down beside him, with the intention of trying to bolster what should be there, against that which shouldn't. Hopefully the others could continue the ritual elements, while I tried to referee between two ornery Powers.
Doing my best to hold the Amber and Asgard Signs in my mind at once - Christ was I going to have a headache after this - I started visualising them overlaid on my brother's body. Once they were in place, I started using them as templates to unwind the mess that was currently writing around him.
Thankfully, his Brandenburg imprint (note to self, I should probably walk the Brandenburg Pattern at some point, in case I ever have to do something like this again) was reasonably well integrated with his Amber one, and so I could work them together.
The Asgard one was harder. To gain more sympathetic correspondence with it, I tried to frame what I was doing in similar terms to the rune magic which Magnus had taught me, before things fell apart, and it seemed to help. Soon, I was sure was that it was losing its grip on my brother's body. But it didn't give up without a fight. By the time I was disentangling the last elements, I was almost unconscious from the strain.
For a moment or two, all seemed to be fine. And then he burst into flames, and we were engulfed in a rush of fire. The shock from suddenly receiving burns over most of the front of my body knocked me backwards, and I instinctively curled up against the pain. The last thing I was aware of as I blacked out was the smell of burning flesh. I had a bad feeling that it was mine.
* * * * * *
When I came around, I was in the Wewelsburg infirmary. I'd been slathered in some kind of balm, and could feel the effects as a healing spell worked its magic on me. I recognised Dieter's signature as the caster. As expected, I also had the migraine from Hell.
Artur was unconscious on the next bed over, but unlike me, he didn't show any trace of burns. In fact, he didn't show any sign of injury at all. Was it him. Or was it...Him.
For now, that question would have to remain unanswered. Realistically, in my current state, there was nothing I could do for either of them just then. The best way I could help him was to sleep, and recover, and then see if there was anything I could do help him once I was in better shape.
* * * * * *
The next time I surfaced, I felt a lot better. I also had a nice, new layer of healthy pink skin, and all that was left of the burns was a tingling feeling, as my nerves sorted themselves out and reconnected with the new tissue. Artur was still exactly where he had been before.
This time I felt capable of standing up at least. I climbed out of my bed to cross to his, and reached over to feel his forehead. It was strangely cool. Unnaturally so. Worried, I felt his neck for a pulse, but again, there was nothing.
Christ no. Surely I hadn't killed my brother?
"He's in stasis," Dieter said, walking over to join me. I hadn't heard him come in.
He was out of uniform, and he looked tired and concerned. The worried grandfather, rather than the superior officer. I had the distinct impression that his skin was pinker than it should have been, too.
"What happened?"
"He self-combusted, but rather than being burned to a crisp, he got to his feet and started ordering us to kneel to him. As you can imagine, it was an unexpected development."
"How's that even possible? He's not a shape shifter."
"That may be the case normally, but there and then, he definitely assumed some kind of elemental form. And when we showed our disinclination to do as he'd ordered, he started rampaging around the temple space. He killed four of my Circle before we could stop him. In the end we combined the energy which we'd been trying to use to help him, and hit him with it. The shock was enough to change him back. He was still reeling from the transformation when I got the stasis spell off, otherwise I'm not sure it would have worked."
"Fire and destruction," I said with a sigh.
"Fire and destruction," he repeated.
"I wonder if Artur's even in there anymore? And if he isn't, how am I going to tell Ian...or, God help me, Armand. I promised my son that I'd look after him. And what a bang up job I did of it."
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure that Artur is still in there" he answered, "we managed to undertake enough of the ritual before everything went to Hell, as it were, to be pretty sure that this isn't a possession. I think it's a fractured past life."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Sit down, and I'll try to explain."
I did as I was bid, taking the chair beside my brother, while our grandfather sat on the edge of my recently vacated bed.
"I believe that our bad-tempered friend there hasn't replaced Artur," he began, "I think he is Artur. Or more accurately, he's a prior incarnation of Artur who has currently gained dominance. It's not something I've ever seen first-hand, but I know that it's possible in theory, as I've talked to other people who've seen it.
Certain traumas can damage the soul, as I'm sure you're aware, having been treated by your friend Adam, who is something of an expert in healing them. In the case of an occultist, one who's lived many lives, that kind of trauma can shatter some or all of the bonds between those previous incarnations. And if one of those is noticeably stronger than the others, then that aspect of the occultist can take over. Effectively, he ends up being possessed by himself."
"Artur's never claimed to have had an Asgardian past life. And in a family like ours, that actually is the kind of thing that comes up in conversation over dinner. But even if he had, this particular Asgardian is already incarnate, as far as I'm aware, because I've had the misfortune to meet him."
"In all the years I've been a ceremonial magician, I've never seen anyone with as much promise and potential as a ritualist as your brother, with the possible exception of your father. And I really do mean possible, because I'm far from certain that Artur isn't going to outstrip Ian in both power and skill, in the not too distant future."
"Assuming he even still exists."
"Well, there is that, but let's think positively shall we?"
"We don't have a choice."
"Quite. As we both know, my son-in-law's affinity is most definitely for the Celtic traditions, which makes perfect sense given that I understand that one of his prior incarnations is the Celtic god Cernnunous. Artur's affinity always been towards the Norse and Germanic ones. So much so that I would have said it was almost impossible for him not to have lived a previous life of, at the very least, one of the great human wizards of the myths and legends, or more likely one of the Asgardians.
In the past, I've offered to help him find out if such a thing existed. He agreed to try, and we've done quite a bit of work together...which is how I knew he'd been Otto Rahn, among others. But there was never anything that linked back to the Norse traditions. And that felt...wrong. As if something was missing."
"A hole in his soul."
"That's as good a description as any for our purposes."
"Well if that's what this is, it's now back with a vengeance."
I gently rested my hand on my little brother's forehead, and brushed back one of those crazy curls of his, which had fallen into his eyes. He looked so young, and so peaceful. A long way from the insane pyromaniac I'd seen in my quarters. A long way even from his normal self, which was usually tense and filled with nervous energy.
"What I don't know, is what triggered the recombination," Dieter continued, "what caused this incarnation to suddenly emerge with such violence?"
"The obvious answer is that its tied up with first the repair, and then the re-damaging of the Asgard Pattern," I commented.
"You know a lot more about what is happening there than I do, Wolfgang. I'm not one of the chosen few."
"Apparently neither am I any more. Myself, Erik, Jericho and Sheridan were cut out of discussions into how to fix the Asgard Sign when it was damaged the second time. Our guess is that it was because none of us were falling over ourselves to try to bring back Oberon. But it turns out that despite having told us that he'd abandoned that idea, resurrecting Odin was Magnus's plan all along."
My grandfather seemed about as thrilled with that prospect as I was.
"There was a Hell of a lot of energy kicking around when Asgard was redrawn. It was certainly the biggest ritual I've ever been involved in. Magnus wanted as many of the Aesir helping as possible, and after certain oaths not to harm Asgard were extracted from the version of Artur's house guest who had until recently been languishing in Amber's dungeons, he was part of the ritual."
"In the myths he's not a natural born Aesir."
"As far as I know, this version wasn't one of the sons of Odin, either. Although I suppose I could be wrong, given that Magnus was never particularly forthcoming on the matter. He was, however, an initiate of the Old Asgard Pattern, hence his inclusion in the repair.
But then the Pattern was bloodied again. My first instinct was to go to its defence, but in hindsight damaging it was probably the only way of preventing Oberon's return, given that Faiella seemed Hell bent on that as well. It was her actions which weakened it enough that the one who damaged it could strike The trouble was, the damage had the inevitable consequence that Magnus hit the nuclear solution. Hence the whole breaking of the Council and exclusion of those of us whose loyalty was to Asgard, rather than Oberon. We were his patsies to help make it happen, and once it was obvious that we wouldn't, he reverted to type and his autocratic tendencies came to the fore."
"So it's possible that this predecessor of Artur's was a weak link, and he became part of the fallout."
"But it doesn't explain how he's found his way back."
"I wonder..."
Dieter paused for a moment, obviously thinking something through.
"Oberon was capable of doing a lot of things that his family never understood. More to the point, when he Created Asgard, I can easily see him wanting to set up an antagonist for his new family; but at the same time not wanting that antagonist to be of his direct descent. So he could have the edge if things didn't go according to plan."
"But all that happened long before Artur was born."
"Yes. But his soul existed. The oldest incarnation of his that he and I have identified dated back to Atlantis."
"I'm still not getting how this links to Artur."
"This is all surmise, but I'd like to think it hangs together. What if Oberon constructed an antagonist. The ‘adoptive son'? To enable it to stand up to its peers, he would have somehow had to infuse it with reality. How better to do that, than with a portion of a High Blood soul. I categorically know of at least one occasion when the passage of the soul that would ultimately become Artur was significantly interfered with. I'm sure you know the Gilgamesh story as well as I do, and the fate of Enkidu."
"The best friend who died," I commented, "Gilgamesh tried and failed to resurrect him back."
"What it went through then would have weakened it, and I'm quite certain that Oberon would have had the power to extract part of it. Perhaps another of Artur's as yet undiscovered prior incarnations was a different trickster god, and Oberon considered it a good fit. It would have been easy to take, and he could have moulded to his liking, and perhaps, as time passed, the original building block was overwritten by our fire-loving acquaintance over there. In the meantime, poor Artur's later lives became successively more broken, as they tried to compensate for the loss."
"It's an interesting theory. But how does it actually help bring my brother back?"
"I think that the only way to help Artur regain control of his current incarnation is by weaving the Asgardian one - or whatever came before it - back into its proper place in the sequence. And that, child of my child, is where you come in."
"I have neither the skill nor the strength of will to de-possess Artur, let alone a pissed off Asgardian."
"I disagree. You see, sometimes I talk to my garrulous little brother Matthew, and he just loves to gossip. One time he got onto the subject of innate abilities. He said he'd been working with various of us to find out what they are, although he never bothered to work with me."
"I know about innate abilities. So?"
"He mentioned that one of yours appeared to be the ability to heal the soul.
"So I'm told."
"I'd say Artur's soul is definitely in need of healing. Wouldn't you?"
"It's not something I've ever had cause to try."
"Perhaps now is the time to remedy that."
Experimentation on my own brother? I didn't like it, but I sure as Hell didn't want him to stay the way he was.
"It isn't quick. I need to meditate for the best part of a day before I can do anything, preferably in close proximity to him, which isn't going to be easy if he keeps waking up and setting fire to things...and himself, come for that."
"I can keep him in stasis until you're prepared. And then I can release it when you're ready. However, I'd suggest restraints, just in case he somehow overcomes it, so I may have to offer you somewhat uncomfortable quarters."
"I rather doubt that any normal restraints would be able to hold an angry fire elemental. And while kregora ones almost certainly could, that would interfere with what I was trying to do."
"True. You may have a point. Are you willing to risk this without? After all, you've already borne the brunt of what he can do once."
"Do I have a choice? After all, he is my little brother, and I feel responsible for him. But if it'll make you feel better, by all means lock us in a cell."
"Thank you, Wolfgang. In which case, I suggest you gets some more sleep, and I'll make the arrangements."
* * * * * *
At least Dieter had put up some kind of heating spell in the cell when I got there. I still didn't like walking in to see Artur chained to the floor, though. He looked so young and so vulnerable. About the only concession to comfort was the fact that he was laid on a mattress, to buffer him from the cold stone floor. Beside it were a couple of thick cushions, a wooden frame which could act as back support, and a number of bits and pieces which our grandfather had provided in case I wanted them to help me meditate.
"It's the best I can do and still keep him relatively secure," my grandfather said, as we walked inside.
"What about you?"
"I'll be on hand in case of emergencies. And when you're ready for me to release the stasis, let me know. I'll be watching for your signal."
It wasn't a great arrangement, but given that my brother and his passenger had already proven just how dangerous they were, I could understand it.
"Be careful, child of my child. And if you think you're in danger, get out of here. I don't want to lose both my grandsons today."
"Believe me, I don't want to lose either of us."
"The remaining members of the Circle will be doing our best to protect you."
He squeezed my shoulder gently and then headed out of the door.
Even knowing that I wasn't the prisoner here, the sound of the key in the lock brought back some very unpleasant memories. With some difficulty, I forced those back down, and concentrated on the task at hand. I started by bringing up the Pattern, and checking the status of his various imprints. I was relieved to see that there was no trace of the Asgard Sign: just the Amber and Brandenburg ones, neatly entwined around each other and behaving once more. So at least part of what we'd tried in the temple space had been successful.
Next I took a look with my astral sight, and made out the figure superimposed over him as he lay in stasis. The main difference from when I'd last encountered him on the Second Road was that now there were flames raging around his astral form, looking as if they wanted to consume him, but somehow never quite managing it. I'd worked with him astrally before, but now I finally recognised what the image he chose to take there was. On the one hand, it was Artur, but somehow it was also the image of the person who was currently in charge of his physical body.
The realisation surprised me, but it also seemed to give weight to the idea that something had been taken from him. Something he'd realised wasn't there, and his astral self had become the projection of it. It left me wondering if the astral bodies of his previous incarnations had taken the same form.
I dropped my astral sight and sat down on the cushions beside him, resting my back against the wooden frame. I took one of his hands in one of mine, and rested them on my lap, so there would be at least some physical contact between us. I had no idea if it was necessary, but it probably couldn't hurt. Then I reached for a beautifully carved quartz globe, one of the meditation aids Dieter had provided, and laid that in my lap as well, where I could focus and concentrate on it. It was time to begin.
* * * * * *
While I had no idea of exactly how long had passed since I'd begun to meditate, I somehow knew when my preparations were complete, and it was time.
"If you're listening out there," I said to the air, "come and take off the spell."
I didn't move, or want to say any more, in case I broke my current meditative state, so I had to trust that Dieter had heard me. And sure enough, moments later he came in. He waited off to one side, and said the release words. Slowly but surely, I felt the warmth coming back into Artur's hand. Then I extended my arcane senses and tried to work out what I needed to do.
Astral forms and souls are related, but they aren't the same. And this became all the more apparent as I looked at my little brother. With this...soul sight, for want of a better word...I could discern the various layers which made up the past lives of the being I knew as Artur Acker. And I could see fractures in the outer layers, which reminded me of toughened glass which had been damaged by a bullet. And the path of its removal was also visible, distorting the damage outwards, as if part of him had been wrenched through them. I could almost hear the screaming as something of him was ripped away.
The something in question was sitting cross-legged beside him, looking at me defiantly, almost daring me to try to oppose him. As I saw it, I knew instinctively that to make my brother complete once more, I needed to force it back into its place in the layers of Artur's lives, and then heal the damage that had been done when it had been torn from him. The trouble was, given the expression on its face, it had no intention of co-operating, and I didn't have much time to make it do so.
Gently at first, I started trying to guide the wounded part of his soul back from whence it came, but from the start it resisted me. At that point I turned more forceful, and carried on trying to put it back where it belonged. Soon I was exhausted: my mind is way less strong than his, and so I was drawing on every reserve I could. However, eventually it turned to smoke and seemed to drift back through the point of damage.
Had I succeeded? I let myself relax for a moment, to try to confirm if it had worked, but I should have realised that however painful it had been, it had also been too easy. The next I knew, long, thin hands were reaching around my neck from behind, and the fingers began to squeeze.
"Tut tut, Freyr," came the mocking version of Artur's voice, "and I thought we were going to have such fun. But no. You've decided to make things difficult. It won't do, you know. Won't do at all."
I felt the pressure around my neck getting tighter, and I realised that it was both physical and mental: his mind beginning to dominate mine and stopping me using my physical strength to stop him. Then he leaned over and came into my line of vision. A composite of Artur and his astral form. Pale skinned, with long red hair and a truly insane expression on its face.
"Did you really think it would be that easy?" he mocked.
I tried to answer, but the words wouldn't come out. Worse still, I could feel him binding himself around me, locking me into place with his mind as he tried to destroy my body. I began to see lights in front of my eyes, as he cut off the oxygen to my brain, and I realised I was dying.
What a pissing awful way to go. Strangled by a vengeful Asgardian spirit with daddy issues.
"I'm sorry...I didn't quite get that," he baited, "feel free to repeat it."
But I hadn't the breath.
Things were going dark, when I heard a cry, and suddenly the pressure was released. And then my assailant was in front of me, blood welling out of his side. I reached for my own throat, trying to protect it from another assault, but he was too quick. Instantly, his hands were on my head and his thumbs were on my eyelids, ready to push.
"Try that again, and I'll blind him," he hissed at something behind me.
"Do that, and next time this blade goes in your neck," came Dieter's voice, and I felt his hand on my shoulder, pushing energy into me. I accepted it, and it gave me the strength to grab my attacker's hands and push them away. Either me or my soul - by then I'd really lost track of which - got to my feet, keeping the Asgardian's wrists gripped in mine. And then I began to squeeze in return, until the bones began to crack under my grasp.
I heard a whimper and looked into his eyes. His expression was somewhere between disbelief that I was holding him, and anger against me. And then his wrists began to heat up, as he once again gathered the energy to immolate the pair of us. On my own I was a dead man, so I drew from my grandfather, who gave the energy willingly. Slowly and surely, we forced our combined will against him. We held him in human form for a while, but eventually he burst once more into flames. However, the act of doing so gave us the opening we needed. I called upon my ability to heal his soul, and the combined strength of will of myself and our grandfather, and rather than burst outwards towards us, his flaming self was sucked back inside the damaged layers of Artur's soul.
I was in pain, and gasping for breath, but I couldn't take the time to relax. Not while the malevolent fire spirit could come storming straight back out again. I reached into the damaged area, and began to repair the layers of his different lives. I started at the innermost, blending the damaged part of his soul with the ruins that had been left behind when it was taken. I imagined myself blurring the lines between them, until they were once again one. From there, I worked carefully outwards, stitching the metaphorical wounds back together again, until finally there was no sign of either the ‘bullet hole' or the shattering around it.
As the last bit of damage disappeared, overwritten by a metaphorical healing skin within the incarnation that was Artur Acker, the power which I'd accumulated during meditation drained away. I sagged forward, hands going to my poor abused throat, but Dieter caught me before I fell. Okay, so that bit definitely wasn't imaginary, although given that Artur was still chained up, I had no idea how he'd managed it.
With my grandfather's help, I sat myself back up again, and then looked at my brother. He was breathing gently, and seemed to be asleep, although there was a pool of blood beside him, and a nasty gash in his side.
"You actually stabbed him?" I croaked.
"On the Second Road, yes. I didn't have much choice, given that he was going to kill you. But apparently it's reflected itself in his physical body as well. Fascinating."
"Fascinating or not, do something, before he bleeds out."
My tone was more angry than I'd intended, but for once Dieter didn't give me a supercilious look, reminding me that I'd overstepped the mark. He knelt beside my brother and started working on a healing spell. I tried to banish my own fatigue - always dangerous, but no doubt my grandfather would catch me if I fell - and then started bringing up the Pattern. There were a couple of things I needed to check.
To my Pattern eye, he seemed a little more substantial. More importantly, there was no change in the two benign imprints, and no sign of the Asgard one returning So far so good. Then I flipped to my astral sight. The flames were still there, but instead of raging, as they had been before, now they were gently playing over him, caressing him almost protectively. They varied in strength: sometimes they were almost gone, while at others they were more obvious. It was hypnotic...like watching the Northern Lights.
"Wolf?" came his voice, and I could feel the pain in it.
I brought myself back to earth and tried to centre myself and looked at my brother. His eyes were open, and this time when I looked behind them, all I could see was him.
"Hell's name, brother," he blurted out, "You look like shit."
And then Dieter must have knocked him or something, as he suddenly became aware of the pain in his side. He tried to move his hand towards the pain, but quickly found he couldn't. Then he looked first at me, and then at our grandfather, obviously alarmed.
"What happened? Why am I chained up?"
"Is it safe?" Dieter asked from his position beside my brother.
"I think so," I answered.
Dieter reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. Moments later, Artur was free, and Dieter helped him sit up. Artur put a hand to his side, where he felt the pain. Dieter had stopped the bleeding, but his clothes were still soaked, and when he brought it away again, there was on his fingers.
"What the Hell?"
Somewhere between frightened and angry, he shrugged off Dieter's help, and I felt him put wards up, almost instantly. Then he shuffled away from us and sat cross-legged, waiting for us to explain. For a second I panicked. He looked so like his darker self just then that I wonder if this was another trick. But as I looked into his eyes, I knew that it was really him. I don't think I'd realised how much I loved him until then. Until I'd nearly lost him. My strange, quiet, serious little brother.
I reached out and pulled him to me, my arms around him in a bear hug.
"Christ, Artur," I said, quietly, "you had me scared shitless. Never, ever do something like that again?"
"Do what?"
But instead of answering, I just hugged him all the harder.
"Be careful you big lummox," he answered, after a moment or two, "some bastard's stabbed me in the side. And if you're not careful, you're going to break my ribs."
I let him go, although I kept my hands on his shoulders as I looked him over. As I released him, he seemed to relax, and finally gave me the most natural grin I'd ever seen on his face. He seemed surprisingly together, given what he'd just been through, and my impression from his body language was that while he didn't understand what was going on, he was more comfortable with who he was than he ever had been before. Even the pain I was used to seeing in his eyes, which I'd suspected had been there since what had happened with Hölzer, seemed diminished.
He lifted my hands of his shoulders and sat back, taking in me, Dieter and his surroundings.
"This is the Wewelsburg. What did I do?" he asked, "How did I end up chained in a jail cell? And who in Hell's name stabbed me?"
"You lost it for a little while," Dieter said, getting to his feet, "your brother brought you here after you collapsed in Amber, and it was the only way we could keep you and everyone else safe.
"By stabbing me."
"You were trying to kill Wolf," he answered, quietly, and for the first time Artur seemed to notice the bruising around my neck, "it was the only way I could stop you."
"Why would I...Wolf?
"It wasn't your fault," I answered, moving that stubborn curl back from his face again.
Dieter stood up and offered him his hand. Artur took it gratefully, and our grandfather helped him to his feet. Then he did the same for me. I felt like at any moment I was going to pitch straight back over, and I realised just how tired and hungry I was. But then, I hadn't eaten for over twenty-four hours, and I had no concept of how long healing Artur's soul had taken on top of that.
"Do you know what happened?" he asked my brother.
"It was like something took me over. I was fine, and then I wasn't. I was suddenly a passenger in my own body, watching out through someone else's eyes."
"As I said, it wasn't your fault," I said to him quietly.
"What's the last thing you remember? Clearly?" Dieter asked.
I could see my brother trying to figure out the answer to Dieter's question. And then I saw realisation cross his face, and he reached out for the wall to keep himself up. I moved to help him, which if I'm being honest, could have gone better. In the end, Dieter had to hold the pair of us up.
"Let's discuss this somewhere more comfortable," he said, putting and arm around each of us and steering us to the door. We headed down the corridor to what was probably a guards' lounge and he ordered everyone out, then broke out a bottle of Schnapps. By then, I was barely holding it together, but I took a glass anyway.
"How much do you remember," he asked, once we were comfortable.
"Most of it, but it gets steadily less and less clear. The last time I remember being fully in control, I was having a drink in Amber with some of the others - Erik, Lucius I think, and Matthew. Then I got your message, Herr Führer..."
"Grandfather."
I'm not sure Dieter had ever asked him to call him that before, as he certainly seemed surprised at the request, and when he said it, it seemed uncertain on his tongue.
"Grandfather...
"You got my message...
"I got your message, and had to explain to my companions what it meant. As I told them, I knew I had to end things, and so I sought him out with the full intention of murdering him. That's when its starts becoming harder to sort out exactly what was me and what...wasn't, and it gets fuzzier still when I decided to play with him, rather than kill him as soon as I laid eyes on him. By the time he got up to leave, I was filled with an almost irrational desire for revenge, and I stabbed him in the back. It was like an epiphany. I can't think when I've ever felt so free. So alive. After that...part of me was who I used to be, but I could also feel that I was so much more. Next morning, I got the mother of all bollockings from Ian, but after the rush, it was worth it and...oh shit, did I really break his nose in front of the City Cabinet?"
His expression would have been funny if he hadn't been so obviously horrified as he remembered what he'd done.
"Hell's bells. I've really screwed up, haven't I? No wonder you chained me up."
"You weren't wholly in control," Dieter said, gently, "and Beyer deserved what you gave him: he certainly doesn't deserve the slightest pang of conscience from you for what you did."
I noticed he didn't say anything about whether Artur should have a conscience for breaking Ian's nose.
"Carry on with your story."
"Okay, so somehow I ended up back at the tavern where I'd run him through. And then you called me back for his execution, after which I headed down to Chaos with Armand. And after that, it's really gone. I really can't remember anything else."
And then his expression changed from horrified to downright stricken.
"Oh, please tell me I didn't hurt Armand..."
"No," I assured him, squeezing his shoulder to show him my support, "he's fine. He called me and I brought you to Amber. As you came through, you collapsed and I realised that something was very wrong. That was when I contacted our grandfather for his help."
"What the Hell happened to me?."
"It seems we've found that Norse incarnation I thought you must have had," Dieter said, gently.
"Then why couldn't we find it before?" Artur asked, curious, "it wasn't for want of trying."
"Dieter thinks it should have been there, but wasn't,", I answered, "and if that's the case, then maybe what happened in Asgard gave it the means and opportunity to return. But when it did, it tried to take advantage, forcing you out and taking your place."
"It possessed me."
"Yes and no," Dieter answered, taking up the story, "you can't really be possessed by yourself, but it forced dominance over all your other incarnations, including your current one. What I hope Wolf has done is to weave it back into the cycle of your lives, where it belongs."
"Fascinating," he said, suddenly the interested student once more, "Was it anyone interesting?"
"You could say that, little brother," I answered, "if there were still a Council of Asgard, you would now qualify to be on it. Although it will be interesting to see if you can still turn into a fire elemental now he's properly reintegrated. And the burning hands thing...that really was disturbing."
"But how? And even under normal circumstances, they don't normally physically change their current incarnation. And they certainly don't just appear out of nowhere."
"Unless they were taken from you at some point in the past," Dieter countered, "which is my current working theory for what happened."
"I don't understand."
"Neither do I, completely," I answered, "But whatever the actual truth you now have the dubious honour of being the current...but hopefully properly reintegrated...incarnation of the God of Fire and Destruction."
"Loki Laufeyson...?" he said, and I could tell that he was trying to decide whether or not that was actually a good thing.
"Welcome to the Norse Pantheon, little brother."