Chapter 3--The Wheft

Marcus takes Sebastian to Neflheim

Approximately 1500 words

"The Wheft" 

Chapter 3

Marcus’s implacable expression and his last words opened a cold black hole of fear in Sebastian’s belly.  His gaze roamed over the surreal room, taking in the city lights shimmering outside, the pervasive lavender mist, and especially the ten pearly gates with tiny tentacles of light wriggling at their edges. Even the scent of sandalwood and myrrh, which at first seemed woodsy and rather pleasant, now turned oppressive and suffocating.

         He couldn’t keep the quaver out of his voice when he asked, “Stay here? In this room? Forever?”  In fact, now that he thought about it, he couldn’t imagine staying here another fifteen minutes.  “There’s not even a bathroom.”

         Marcus just laughed at him.  “That’s what you’re worried about? Aren’t you the practical one?  No, I didn’t mean in this room.  I meant you can’t go back to where you came from.”

         “I came from a small town in Iowa.  I don’t want to go back there.”  Ever, in fact. “Is that what you mean? Like, ‘you can’t go home again?’”

         “Exactly. This is a critical vortex, and I can’t afford to have it compromised.  You’re going to have to come with me, at least until I can think of something better.”

         “I have to be at work at eight. They’ll fire me if I don’t finish my database project.”

         Marcus shook his head.  “Not going back means not going back to the life you had before you came into this room.  Your family, your friends, your job, they’re all lost to you. At least for now.”  He frowned, then added, “I have a mission to fulfill, one that’s more important than you can possibly imagine.  If it works out, I can probably insert you back into your world, if that’s what you want.  But I have to succeed in my quest first.”

         “You can’t just take my life away!”  Sebastian tired to sound appalled.  He knew he should be appalled, but somehow it didn’t sound so bad.  His family had long ago abandoned him, and his job was nothing more than a set of diverting but meaningless puzzles to solve.  And, of course, a way to feed himself.  He didn’t have boyfriend, or even an ex that mattered, and no real friends. The only person who might miss him was Irene. 

         It was like he’d been just drifting through life.  Except now, he’d be drifting along with Mr. Hottie Marcus. That might not be so bad.  At least Marcus had a mission, a purpose.

         Marcus clasped his shoulder.  “I promise I’ll take care of you.  You might even enjoy it. I just can’t let anyone know about this vortex while I’m on this quest.”

         Sebastian heaved a resigned sigh.  “So, where do you plan on taking me?”

         “For now?”  He frowned and pursed his lips.  “I’m on my way to a rendezvous at the Well of Hvergelmir.  That’s where we’re both going.”

         “The well of what? Where?”

         “It’s on Neflheim. It doesn’t matter.  You’ll see. But you have to come with me.”

         Sebastian bit his lip.  It was tempting, but being reminded he had no choice was…annoying.  “What if I say no?”

         Marcus’s eyes glinted and his jaws squirmed like he was chewing grasshoppers.  “You seem to forget I have a gun.  I have other skills, too, ones that I’d rather not reveal.  For now, know that I prefer you come along willingly, but I’m prepared to use force if necessary.” 

         “You said you would eventually let me come home again?  Back here?  I’ll still lose my job if I don’t show up this morning.  You can’t just dump me here a week, or a month, or whatever, from now.”

         “You won’t lose your job.  I can return you to this very morning, to the instant before you came into this room.  That’s if I succeed.  If I do, I’ll have limitless resources to reward you, if you cooperate now.  You’ll never have to work again.”

         Limitless resources sounded like bravado, even though Marcus exuded confidence.  “What are the chances you’ll fail, and I wind up a big loser?”

         “Nothing is certain.  That’s the nature of all worlds and all things.  But I pledge on my honor that I will protect you from harm to the extent I am able. I just can’t let you compromise my mission.”

         He’d called it a quest just a moment ago. Twice, in fact. Mission or quest?  Was there a difference?  Probably not one that mattered.  Sebastian shrugged. “It sounds like I have no choice.” None of it made much sense, but fighting for a pointless life didn’t make sense, either.  “Take me wherever.”

         “All right, then.”  He grasped Sebastian’s hand and tugged. “Come.”

         Sebastian held back. “Wait.  I really do need to use the bathroom.”

         That got him a snort from Marcus. “There are facilities where we are going. Can’t you wait two minutes?”

         Sebastian squeezed his features into a pained grimace.  “I guess.”

         “All right then. Hold tight to my hand so we don’t lose each other in the cave of worlds.”

         Sebastian let Marcus lead him, side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, and grasping hands, to the portal nearest the outer wall on the far side of the room.  Passing through was like parting a veil into a tunnel of light and shadow.  Quivering cylinders of light swirled about them, roiling the walls of the tunnel and fleeing into unseen and unseeable depths.  The chill air prickled Sebastian’s skin, and the lavender mist, laden with the scent of sandalwood and myrrh, stole his breath away.  Underfoot, the tunnel’s surface stuck to his sneakers like glue, leaving sinewy trails light with each step and resisting his progress with a rubbery intensity. 

         After what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than a minute or so, they passed through another veil into a new…place. Sebastain inhaled frigid air that seared his throat.  Snow whipped about them and wind tore at his clothes.  He glared at Marcus, “By all that’s holy, you might have warned me we were headed into a frigging blizzard.”

         “So, I didn’t check the weather report. Forgive me. It’ll be warm inside the shrine. Come.” 

         Sebastian wrapped his arms about himself and followed Marcus through the drifting snow. He seemed to be trodding on a path, or maybe a road.  At least, the surface felt reasonably smooth.  After a minute or so, a stone wall emerged in the in the blizzard, along with an pair of immense wooden doors, large enough for a team of Clydesdales to enter. For two teams. Abreast.

      A brass goblin bigger than Marcus’s head hung shoulder-high on one of the doors.  He grabbed it and used it like a knocker. After giving it three thunks, he turned to Sebastian.  “Sorry about the weather.  I knew it was going to be cold. I just didn’t expect a blizzard.  Rufo will have a fire going, and it’ll be warm inside.”

         Sebastian glared at him and spoke through chattering teeth.  “I hope he hurries up. I really need to go.”  The cold just made it worse, and this place looked pretty primitive.  He didn’t have much hope for the kind of facilities it might have.

         Seconds later, one of the doors creaked open a crack.  A guttural, bass voice said, “Who goes there?”

         “Rufo, it’s me. Let us in.”

         The door opened wide, revealing a short, bald man wearing blue jeans, army boots, and a plaid shirt.  He had a nose the size of Texas, brow  ridges, and a heavy jaw.  His troll-like face split in a broad grin, and he exclaimed, “Lord Marcus! So good to see you. The fires are lit and the porridge is--” He stopped, stared at Sebastian, and his eyes grew wide. “Who be this?  A companion and ally for our quest? Or an enemy and prisoner for our dungeon?”

         “His name is Sebastian, and he’s our guest for now. Can you show him the latrine, please? He seems to have an urgent need.”

         “Our guest, you say?  Well, a guest of Lord Marcus is always welcome at the Shrine of Élivágar.” He grinned at Sebastian.  “Come then, Sir Sebastian, let Rufo show you to the facilities.”

         Rufo was no more than five feet tall, but he reached up, put a beefy arm over Sebastian’s shoulders, and pulled him inside to a room that was perhaps twenty feet wide and twice as long.  It wasn’t warm, exactly, but at least it was out of the storm.  It smelled of cedar planks, burning oak, beeswax, and centuries of accumulated BO.  Flickering candles lit the interior, and tapestries covered the stone walls and flagstone floor.  A fire blazed in a massive hearth at the far end of the room where three dogs and a couple of cats lounged.

         Marcus, Lord Marcus, followed them inside and closed the door.  He still looked like a refugee from ancient Rome, right down to his toga and now snow-covered sandals.  His glasses had fogged up in the interior warmth and he took them off, revealing his amazing, crystalline blue eyes. 

         So now, instead of Mr. Hottie Roman Guy,  he was apparently Mr. Hottie Viking Lord. 

        What the fuck had Sebastian gotten himself into?

         The facilities turned out to be a chamber pot tucked away in a malodorous side corridor, even worse than Sebastian had feared. He hoped it didn’t portend the rest of his fate.