Disgrace [A Loki Fanfiction]

Chapter 11 - Slythm

As I step onto the Great Bridge, a feeling of warmth spreads upward into my body, and a brighter glow envelopes my foot, spreading in ripples. It looks as though I am walking on water. I take another step. More warmth and glowing ripples.

   I take off my cloak and stuff it into my bag before continuing ahead.

   "This reminds me of the Bifrost," Loki says.

   "Really?"

   He does not answer. I lead the way ahead, keeping my eyes firmly on the titan clad in silver ahead of me, too timid to look over the edge of the Bridge. A few minutes later, Nolbrae turns around to face us, assuming the same stance that Straeth had to prevent our passage.

   "Who are you?" he asks in an identically booming, intimidating voice.

   "My name is Alea," I say, "I have been held captive in Lythmia my entire life. This is Loki. He helped me escape and come here."

   "What is he?"

   "He is an Asgardian," I reply, "I wish to ask the king whether he knows of a way to send him back."

   For a long while, Nolbrae remains motionless. Just as I am about to call for his attention, he steps aside and turns around to face the Donthion lands. 

   "Thank you," I say, stepping off the Great Bridge.

   I gape.

   I have set eyes upon the most beautiful land I could ever have hoped of seeing. Large, lush valleys and hills spread endlessly ahead of us, covered in grasses and trees, swirling with vines, flowers of all sorts and exotic birds with more colours than I can count on both my hands.

   Loki and I stop for a moment, fatigued by the battle with the guards, and ate the last of the Lythmic bread while enjoying the scenery. After resting for a few minutes, we got back up and started travelling.

   "Everyone always made it sound as though Donthio is nothing but desolate lands and monster-inhabitted caves," I say.

   "I'm they said whatever your father felt necessary to keep you in Lythmia," he replies.

   "Perhaps."

   "What language did you speak to the guard with?" he asks abruptly. I frown.

   "Lythmic, of course."

   "I mean, to the guard with the silver armour."

   "I spoke Lythmic," I repeat, wondering what he was talking about.

   "It did not sound like Lythmic," he says, "It was a rougher language."

   "Perhaps this journey has made your ears faulty."

   Deciding to ignore what he said, I, for the millionth time, wonder how Eloen is doing, and whether she still alive at all. I hope against hope that she did not get punished for disguising herself as me. It was, after all, under my orders that she did so. I also hoped that what Loki said about the guards was true, that if they never return, Father would not punish Eloen anymore.

   After a few hours the suns set, and Loki and I decide to rest. It would be better if we travelled this land by the light of day, seeing as neither of us have any idea where we are, exactly. All I know for sure is that Slythm, the Donthion capital city, is in the middle of the land. My only hope is too keep going and hope to reach it, or at least a village that can lead me to it.

   When the suns are high in the sky, and my skin begins to feel like it is blistering, I take out the cloak again and wrap myself with it. We continue walking for hours, only resting thrice on the way. The scenery remains the same, so there is no way for me to tell whether we are walking in the right direction or not.