The Gospel of Loki Read Online Free Page A

wondered how he would do it. And so, that day, for the first time, in defiance of Surt and of all the laws of Chaos, I left my fiery Aspect and ventured out into World Above.
    For a moment I was disoriented. Too many sensations, all of them new, enveloped my new Aspect. I could see colours; I could smell sulphur; I could feel the snow in the air and see the face of the man before me, cloaked in glam from head to foot. I could have chosen any form: that of an animal, or a bird, or just a simple trail of fire. But, as it happened, I’d assumed the form with which you may be familiar; that of a young man with red hair and a certain je ne sais quoi .
    The man stared at me in amazement (and, dare I say, admiration). I knew that behind my human disguise he knew me for a child of the Fire. A demon, if you prefer the term; although to be honest, the difference between god and demon is really only a matter of perspective.
    ‘Are you real?’ he said at last.
    Well, of course, that’s a relative term. Everything’ s real on some level, you know, even (maybe especially) dreams. ButI wasn’t used to speaking aloud. In Chaos, such things are un necessary. Nor had I been expecting the sheer impact of physicality; the sounds (the wind; the crunch of the snow; the thumping of a snow hare on the side of a nearby hill); the sights; the colours; the cold; the fear . . .
    Fear? Yes, I suppose it was fear. It was my first real emotion. Chaos in its purest form is free of all emotion, working on instinct, and instinct alone. Pure Chaos is without thought. That’s why it only ever takes shape when in the face of the enemy, taking its form from the enemy’s thoughts; its substance from his deepest fears.
    Still, it was an intriguing experience – if somewhat claustrophobic – to keep to a single physical form, constrained by its limitations; feeling the cold, half-blind with the light, assailed by all those sensations.
    I flexed my limbs experimentally, tried the speaking-aloud thing. It worked. Still, with hindsight, I can’t help thinking that if I’d really wanted to try and blend in, I should have thought myself up some clothes.
    I shivered. ‘Gog and Magog, it’s cold. Seriously, are you trying to tell me that you people choose to live out here?’
    He fixed me with his one eye; blue and chilly and none too kind. Behind him, his colours showed no fear, just wariness and cunning.
    ‘So. You’re Loki, are you?’ he said.
    I shrugged my new shoulders. ‘What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell just as pink and virginal. And speaking of which, if you could find your way to lending me some clothes . . .’
    He did – some breeches and a shirt, taken from his backpack, and smelling rather strongly of goat. I put them on, grimacing at the smell, as my new acquaintance introduced himself as Odin, one of the sons of Bór. I knew him by reputation, of course. I’d followed his career from afar. I’d watched his dreams. I wasn’t what you’d call impressed – and yet hisambition and ruthlessness were not without potential.
    We talked. He explained his position as General in Asgard; painted a pretty picture of the Sky Citadel and its inhabitants; spoke of Worlds to conquer and rich rewards to be won, then moved onto the subject of a possible alliance with my folk against the Ice People, the renegade Vanir, Gullveig-Heid and the warlords who occupied the Outlands.
    I had to laugh. ‘I don’t think so.’
    ‘Why not?’
    I explained that Lord Surt was really not an alliance kind of guy. ‘“Xenophobic” doesn’t begin to cover how much he despises strangers. It’s bad enough that your kind of life emerged from the ice in the first place, but you’ll never get him making a deal with a race of people that entered the Worlds naked and covered in cow-spit.’
    ‘But if we could talk—’ Odin began.
    ‘Surt doesn’t talk. He’s a primal force. He reduces Order in all its forms into its component particles.