Startled, I looked down—and time stopped dead.
One link of the slender chain was partially bent open. A stray round—probably one of the wild shots I'd fired at Loki's wife—had struck it at supersonic velocity. Nothing on Earth had been capable of that kind of speed, that much force, when those chains had been forged.
All it had taken was one very desperate fool to blow open the chain that stood between Earth and Ragnarok... .
I couldn't force myself to move, wasn't sure how I might repair the damage. All I could do was watch in morbid fascination as Loki struggled to jerk the trapped link through the open one. He was howling at his children to help him.
Then Sleipnir skidded to a stop on all four haunches right in front of him. His rear hooves cut inch-deep grooves in the rock. Sleipnir reared to full height under the overhang.
It came to me very slowly that Sleipnir wasn't two hundred feet tall any longer. Of course, he wouldn't have fit under the lip of rock if he had been... .
I wondered if the other gods could change size at will. Maybe Loki'd tried it and those chains expanded with him? Or maybe they just cut into his flesh without breaking? Or maybe...
I stopped thinking altogether. All four of Sleipnir's front hooves struck the open link in rapid succession, like jackhammers in tandem, striking sparks that scorched Loki. The mad god howled and shrieked, and fought harder to jerk the link free.
The monster nearest the stallion—whose dark coat was flecked with foam—leaped for his throat. Crocodile jaws gaped, propelled by eleven feet of heavily muscled panther body. Sleipnir screamed in rage, and slithered back onto his rearmost haunches. The crocodile jaws missed, and Loki's offspring landed at Sleipnir's feet. Sleipnir pounded it into a bloody pulp.
Odin's hellhorse slid back another few feet, and half-reared for the leap back to the nearly closed link. His backward momentum carried him directly beneath my boulder.
Suddenly I was looking down at the broad, sweat-stained back of my transportation to Odin—but right now he had urgent business with Loki, which I didn't dare interrupt... .
Quick movement flickered in my peripheral vision. I slewed around. A twelve-foot wolverine hurtled in midleap across the top of the boulder. Its dripping jaws were agape, wider than I was.
I didn't think—I just jumped.
My legs closed around Sleipnir's sides. The Biter slid into its sheath. I grabbed at the long black mane instants before the enraged horse screamed. My head snapped when Sleipnir shot skyward and bounced on four hind legs. The wolverine's leap carried him well past Sleipnir's shoulder. My would-be killer landed on Loki's legs. Its claws dug huge, bloody gashes across the god's shins. Loki screamed obscenities.
I had no more time for anything except staying with Sleipnir. I clasped my legs harder as the stallion rose higher and higher on his hindmost legs—then my head snapped back, the other direction. Sleipnir didn't try to throw me—but he did grind the wolverine into the slush. I clung, bruised and shaken breathless, as the enraged stallion methodically killed each and every one of Loki's monstrous children.
If I fell off, Sleipnir would pound me into a red stain, and that would be the end of that. No avenging Gary, no killing Odin... Did death by Sleipnir count as murder, accident, or battle? I stuck on that stallion's back like a sandspur in dog fur. Sleipnir tossed his head, screaming defiance. Loki screeched back, cursing as the great warhorse hammered the link down again. Sleipnir flattened it shut with his forefeet while I jolted and groaned.
I could tell at a glance that Sleipnir's jury-rigged repair job wasn't going to hold Loki long. The god was too powerful, despite the passage of centuries, which should've left him with atrophied muscles. But Sleipnir's temporary fix would buy Earth time. And maybe—if I stayed with Sleipnir—it would even be enough.
Sleipnir pivoted on his rearmost set of legs. I lurched sideways, barely hanging on. He switched around on his forehand and pivoted the other direction. Overbalanced to compensate for the first pivot, I came loose. I clung one-handed to Sleipnir's mane, with my leg hooked around his neck and my boot stuck in the coarse hair. The Sly Biter—still sheathed—had grabbed hold of Sleipnir's mane with its own tail. I hauled myself back aboard at the expense of strained shoulders. The stallion screamed again, craning his neck to snap at my leg. He missed by a fraction of an inch, then shook himself like a dog coming out of water. My legs bounced as I lost my seat—
Instantly the bastard launched forward into a dead run.
Again, my grip on his mane was all that saved me. I managed to get my feet hooked around his sides again, and gripped harder than I'd thought possible as he picked up speed. We raced through the freezing blackness of Niflhel—straight at a solid wall of rock.
I yelled and screwed shut my eyes.
We burst through a barrier of solid stone. I received a fleeting impression of bone-chilling, smothering cold; then we lurched into green light. Niflheim again...
Wind whipped tears from my eyes. I was nearly blind. Sweat from Sleipnir's coat drenched my legs. His muscles surged, and his breath whistled in my ears like a freight train. Sleipnir's hooves pounded against stone, casting sparks that blasted upward and smoldered in the remnants of my trousers. The wind blew the embers into ash. I could feel their burning sting by the hundreds. I gritted my teeth.
We roared past a sluggish, bubbling green river that poured over a cliff face like oozing lava. What looked like a serpent had reared up out of it. Enormous fangs had gouged black scars in the ceiling. Then we were airborne, in a leap that nearly slid me off Sleipnir's haunches. By the time I'd dragged myself back into a halfway secure position, we were hell-and-gone from sight of the snake.
I was ready for the leap across the black-acid Gjoll. I stayed on, and the long tunnel I'd found a lifetime ago tilted wildly toward us. Then the world again turned into darkness. The cold of the mountain blasted into the wind of our passage. Compared to Niflhel, it was almost balmy.
Sparks white as burning magnesium erupted toward my face. I tried to shield my eyes, and ignored the ache in my teeth where my jaws had cracked shut during Sleipnir's latest tremendous leap. My ass was growing numb from the eight-legged gait, and still the horse swept on through the darkness. My fingers froze in his mane until I couldn't feel them. I couldn't breathe real well, either; we were going too fast. Dizziness became the next threat to unseat me. I clasped my knees tighter, praying to whatever was listening that I not fall off while we raced through the heart of a living mountain.
Abruptly Sleipnir skidded sideways. His tight turn would've done a barrel racer proud. It damn near unseated me. Then he got all eight feet under him and was off again. Moments later his muscles bunched—here we go again—and he leaped forward. Light exploded into being. We were in clear air. Gale-force wind snatched my breath away. Brilliant—ruby red—light blinded me.
Where—?
Sleipnir bucked. I sailed toward his ears, damn-near airborne. Then I came down hard on bony double withers. The shock jarred what little breath I had left out of me. I started to slide sideways, and knew I was in trouble. Then he began to grow. His mane swallowed my arms, and I dangled from a neck that was suddenly larger than I was, and getting bigger... .
He sunfished midair, and I was gone. I fell away beneath eight churning hooves that receded with frightening speed. I had time to scream one obscenity at the bastard, then twisted and hurtled into the glinting surface of a bloodred ocean.