Thor: The Dark World Page 3

  “Am I to take it by your presence that the Nine Realms still stand?”

  “I came to give father the good news,” Thor said, his smile returning.

  “And you thought to find him here? You’ll find him where he is more at ease,” she said. Thor should’ve known. Odin wouldn’t be in the palace at a time like this. He’d be with his men. Training.

  Heavy broadswords clashed against shields, spears were thrown at high velocity toward their targets, and armored guards battled against one another in elaborate war games. Led by Tyr, the Einherjar drill instructor known for the metal hand that replaced the real one that he had lost long ago in glorious battle, these were the Asgardian training grounds, and they were very, very active. Above it all circled two large black ravens. They watched the proceedings with keen interest before landing on a ledge next to the King of Asgard, Odin Allfather, who looked down at his troops. While still a great sovereign leader, Odin was growing older, and with age came the fatigue and weariness that only ruling can bring.

  Thor approached his father with news that Vanaheim was finally secure. Odin was relieved that the Nine Realms were safe, but also felt the constant burden of always having to be the one to protect them. “For the first time since the Bifrost was destroyed, the Nine Realms are at peace, well reminded of our strength. You have earned their respect, and my gratitude,” he told his son. But he could sense that something was wrong.

  “I felt something on Vanaheim,” Thor said. “A presence…a darkness…”

  “And you would like to investigate?” Odin asked. “On Earth, perhaps?” Odin continued, wondering if this was really a ploy for Thor to return to Midgard. They had had this conversation before.

  “This isn’t about Jane Foster,” Thor began, “though I have pledged to protect her realm. If something is amiss in the universe—”

  Odin cut him off. He was tired of this conversation. “Nothing is amiss. Save your distracted heart,” he instructed. “Mortal lives are fleeting. You would be better served by what lies in front of you,” Odin said, nodding down at the training grounds, and at the arrival of Lady Sif, who was instructing the Einherjar on how to disarm an opponent. Feeling like she was being watched, Sif looked up and caught Thor’s eye. The two smiled at one another as Odin continued. “I tell you this not as your Allfather, but as your father: Lament not what you have lost”—looking toward Lady Sif, he continued—“but embrace what you have won.”

  Thor thought heavily. His heart was still on Midgard, with Jane, but he would consider his father’s words.

  “Now go,” Odin continued. “Join your warriors. Revel in their celebration. At the very least enjoy yourself.”

  Thor bowed to his father. “We shall drink Asgard dry.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  ON THE DECREPIT, decaying world of Svartalfheim, the air was poisonous to the Dark Elves. With their expressionless helmets covering their faces, an army of Dark Elves marched in formation along a jagged cliff side, until one elf raised a weapon and fired. It was the same type of black hole–inducing device that the scouts had used, and in a matter of seconds, the cliff imploded in on itself, sucking itself into a newly created miniature black hole. The elf stood stoic, and then continued to lead them on.

  Meanwhile, deep within the catacombs, more elves fired even more devices, which caused even more miniature black holes to form and suck away the rocky terrain. The elf minions were training for battle and preparing for war.

  On the cliff above, Algrim approached Malekith, who was standing without his helmet, rasping as he breathed in the toxic air. “My wife and I would sit here on the shore and watch our children play. I can still see the reflection of the waves on her face and feel the cool of the black wind,” Malekith said as he kneeled down and sifted through black ash that covered the land. “I will restore our world to its former splendor or I will breathe this poison air until it kills me.”

  In a show of support, Algrim unhooked and removed his mask, and breathed in the same toxic air. Malekith was impressed by his fellow Dark Elf’s loyalty. Algrim hid his pain and began to speak. “The scouts bring word from Vanaheim. The Asgardians are taking prisoners,” he said.

  “Prisoners? Time has made them weak.” Then Malekith pointed toward his men and looked to Algrim. He didn’t even have to say the words to his second in command.

  “We are making progress,” Algrim informed his master. He would make sure that the elves trained until they were ready. This was a fight that they were not prepared to lose.

  “Good. Soon the Asgardians will know our pain as their own,” Malekith said, looking out at dozens of Dark Elf Ark spaceships, all of which had crashed on this planet more than a thousand years ago, all of which served as a grim reminder of what the Dark Elves had lost, and just who was responsible.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE CELEBRATION had been going on strong for the last few hours, and there wasn’t an end in sight. Asgardians strolled through the streets, rejoicing the fact that the Nine Realms were safe at last.

  Friends laughed, kids played, and warriors recounted their many victorious battles. At one particular pub, Thor and the Warriors Three were holding court, with Volstagg as the master of ceremonies—and the master storyteller—even if his stories tended to be somewhat exaggerated and partly fabricated. Still, his yarns kept everyone entertained, particularly his wife and children, who were on the edge of their seats, waiting to hear how they escaped the latest death-trap and insurmountable odds. Across the room, Fandral sat with a bar wench on each arm, while Thor stood in the background, alone but amused.

  “I threw the beast off, but six more beat me to the ground, crushing my sword as if it were paper!” Volstagg continued to the captive group. His children jumped onto his lap to hear the story’s big dramatic ending, and momentarily distracted him. “Where was I?” he suddenly stopped and asked.

  “You were surrounded,” Thor answered.

  “By the most vile criminals the Nine Realms had ever produced,” Volstagg continued, without missing a beat. “One thousand strong marched upon us!”

  “One thousand?” Fandral quietly questioned to Thor.

  Thor smiled at Volstagg’s elaboration. “One thousand each,” he said to Fandral, kidding.

  “And who was there to face this horde but Fandral the Dashing, Hogun the Grim, and Volstagg the—”

  “—Voluminous!” a wench yelled from across the table.

  “Fat!” Fandral immediately corrected.

  “Invincible!” Volstagg stated. “To our left, savage beasts. Their fangs like knives!” he said, scaring the young children. “To our right, soldiers of fortune, blood dripping from their blades. I don’t mind telling you, I feared for Thor’s life.” Thor raised an eyebrow, surprised at where this story was headed.

  “But with steely courage, inspired spirit, and an ax…” Volstagg said as he slammed his battle-ax onto the table. The kids jumped as the ax sank into the wood and stuck out of the tabletop. “Victory was ours!” Volstagg yelled, ending this story to the cheer of the crowd.

  “Truly a tale for the ages,” Thor remarked with a smirk.

  “By the time the night is through, we’ll have defeated Surtur himself,” Fandral said, referring to the fire demon from Muspelheim, who was one of the most heinous enemies of Thor and the Warriors Three.

  Thor watched as Volstagg kissed his wife and cuddled with his children before beginning his next story. He then looked over at Fandral, who now had three giggling maidens at his side. Trying to revive his old enthusiasm, Thor threw his stein to the ground and yelled for another. There was a roar from the crowd as they did the same. With everyone cheering and drinking, Thor quietly made his way to the exit.

  “There was a time when you would celebrate for a week,” a voice said from behind him. It was Lady Sif. She smiled at Thor, and he smiled back. “There was a time when every battle came down to us, you and me, back to back, fighting for each other.” Sif took a long drink and watched
Thor’s smile fade. “Stay. We will celebrate like old times. Surely the Allfather will have no further tasks for you tonight,” Sif said. But Thor was in no mood for celebrating.

  “This is one I set for myself,” Thor told her. And without saying the words, Sif knew just who and what Thor was talking about.

  “There are more than Nine Realms,” she said. “The future king must focus on more than one.”

  “I have always been grateful for your words and your counsel, Lady Sif.” And with that, Thor turned and walked off into the cool Asgardian night, alone.

  Back on Earth, in the abandoned industrial complex in London, Darcy, Ian, Maddie, and Navid were playing a game of Disappearing Shoes. They would find whatever object they could—be it bottles, shoes, or even car keys—and throw them into the void, waiting to see which ones returned and which ones disappeared.

  “Were those our car keys?” Darcy asked after Ian’s latest throw.

  “Maybe,” he sheepishly replied. They were, and unfortunately, they never reappeared.

  And while the interns and the kids played, Jane continued on through the complex, her phase meter pinging wildly as she searched for clues.

  At that same time, back on Asgard, Heimdall, the all-seeing keeper of the Rainbow Bridge, stood at his post at the edge of the observatory, scanning the cosmos. He did not turn when Thor approached, but spoke as soon as the prince was behind him. “You are not celebrating,” Heimdall said.

  “Merriment can sometimes be a heavier burden than battle,” Thor replied.

  “Then you are doing one of them incorrectly,” Heimdall observed. Thor couldn’t help but smile.

  “How fare the stars?” Thor asked. “Let me guess: shining?”

  “Play the fool all you like,” Heimdall began. “But when I taught you of the cosmos as a boy, you hung on my every word. Do you recall what you learned of the Convergence?” the sentry asked.

  Thor remembered a little of its history. “The alignment of worlds…it approaches?” Thor asked.

  “The universe has not been host to this marvel since before my watch began,” Heimdall replied. Thor thought back to the darkness he felt on Vanaheim.

  “Have you noticed anything strange?” he asked.

  “From here, I can see Nine Realms and ten trillion souls. You don’t know the meaning of the word strange,” Heimdall replied. Thor would have to be more specific.

  “On our last campaign, I sensed something. We had won our battle, but a greater turmoil lay just outside my sight,” Thor explained.

  Try as he might, Heimdall could not see any disturbances. But Thor did not take his leave. There was something else on his mind, and he knew that Heimdall knew why he was really there—but Heimdall was going to make Thor ask.

  Finally, after several long seconds of awkward silence, Thor gave in.

  “How is she?” Thor said at last.

  Heimdall turned his gaze toward Midgard, then finally responded. “She is well. She studies the Convergence as you once did. Even as we speak, she nears the truth.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JANE FOSTER was nearer to discovering the truth than either she or Heimdall could have ever thought. As she followed her pinging phase meter, she found herself at a doorway. Curious, Jane looked inside to see a shimmering rift in time and space. “Amazing…” she muttered to herself. And then things went really crazy.

  Jane’s shoes squeaked on the floor, and she found herself being dragged toward the rift as if by some all-powerful, invisible force. Jane reached out to grab hold of something—anything—but it was no use. Everything in the room was being pulled toward its center, toward a swirling gravitational darkness. She tried to yell for Darcy, but it was no use. By the time she opened her mouth to scream, she was consumed by the dark, swirling energy. The only sound was the wind whipping by her and the crackling of energy. The force lifted Jane high into the air and she hung, weightless, suspended above the ground. Then she started to spin with the rest of the debris. As with the soccer ball, the shoes, and the keys, strange, otherworldly forces were at work, causing gravity to reverse itself and objects to move independently and at varying speeds. And in the center of it all was a shocked Jane Foster. The energy crackled louder and louder and Jane spun faster and faster until everything went black.

  Jane hit the ground with a hard THUMP, as if she had fallen several stories. She groaned as she slowly pulled herself up. She was bruised and her body ached, but she was alive, and nothing was broken.

  “Darcy? Intern guy?” she called out, but there was no response. In a few seconds, her eyes became acclimated to the surrounding darkness.

  Jane was lying on her side, in the dreary abandoned industrial complex on the south side of London. Confused, she tried to focus her eyes on what was directly above her on the ceiling—a large pile of bricks. As she slowly got to her feet, one of the bricks fell. Then Jane’s eyes went wide as the entire pile fell. Jane jumped out of the way, just in time to miss being crushed by the mound of bricks. That was when it all came back to her: the odd occurrences at the complex, the strange phase readings, the dark room with the strange energy. She needed to find answers—and fast. But first she needed to find Darcy.

  Meanwhile, Maddie and Navid continued to play with their magical soccer ball until, without warning, their soccer ball just bounced harmlessly off the side of the wall, its magic gone. The kids saw Jane enter the room, and thought that she had taken the magic away. “Now the police are going to kick us out,” Navid said. “Thanks for nothing.”

  Jane looked out the window to see Darcy talking to a police officer, with several more behind her. Jane ran out of the complex as fast as she could.

  “You called the police?” Jane yelled at Darcy, worried that they were going to make her evacuate the complex. “Next thing you know, S.H.I.E.L.D. will be crawling all over, ‘Area Fifty-one-ing’ the whole place!” Jane was frantic. “We had a stable gravitational anomaly. We had unprecedented success. Our only competition was kids!” she yelled.

  “What was I supposed to do?” Darcy replied. “You were gone for five hours!” she yelled back.

  This stopped Jane cold. How could that be? How did she disappear for five hours? She had only been in that strange room for a minute. Nothing was making sense, but before Jane could get any answers, storm clouds rolled in and the sky turned black. Darcy knew at once what this meant, but didn’t want to believe it. “Really?” she said, as if to some higher power. And as if in response, the rain started.

  Torrential rain poured down from the sky as everyone ran for cover, leaving Jane standing alone in the courtyard. She looked around, but somehow, she wasn’t getting wet. She was staying dry. And that’s when Jane realized what was happening. She heard a thunderclap and then, from behind, a large shadow engulfed her tiny one. She slowly turned and looked up to see Thor standing in all his glory, Mjolnir at his side, his red cape flowing in the wind. He was here. And he was real. He walked up to her, the two now in their own small, dry oasis.

  “Are you all right?” Thor asked with concern. “I thought something had—”

  SLAP! Jane hit Thor across the face.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were real,” she said in reference to the slap. Thor just blinked, surprised and slightly annoyed at the reaction to his arrival. “Where were you?” Jane asked.

  “Where were you?” Thor replied.

  “Right where you left me,” Jane said, referring to New Mexico.

  “No,” Thor interrupted. “Heimdall could not see you. You were gone.”

  Jane looked down and realized what Thor meant. “I don’t know what—Wait, Heimdall was watching me?” she asked.

  “He was always watching you. I asked him to,” Thor said.

  “I need a moment to figure out if that’s moving or creepy,” Jane replied, though deep down she knew what Thor meant. “I waited for you,” she confessed.

  “I know you did,” Thor began.

  “You said you’d come
back for me,” Jane said with sadness, wondering why Thor never did.

  “The Bifrost was destroyed. The Nine Realms fell into chaos. Entire planets and people were at risk,” Thor explained. “Risk of destruction. It was my obligation to help them.”

  “But I saw you on TV,” Jane said. “In New York.”

  “My duty had to take precedence over my heart,” Thor said, referring to his battle with the Avengers against Loki.

  Jane smiled at Thor, but was interrupted by Darcy, who stood outside their oasis, soaking wet. “Do you wanna, maybe…?” Seeing her, Thor stopped the rain. Jane looked over at the police, who were arresting Ian, and ran over to try to explain, leaving Darcy alone with Thor. “Look at you,” Darcy said as she inspected Thor in his battle armor. “Still all muscle-y and stuff and everything. How’s space?”

  “Space is fine,” Thor said, his eyes on Jane and the police. They had moved toward her now, as if to arrest her as well.

  “This is private property,” one officer began. “You’re trespassing. The lot of you. You’ll have to come down to the station.” But as the bobby reached out to her, Thor took a step forward. As he did, the police reflexively drew their guns. The situation had gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds.

  “Place your hands on your head and take five steps back!” one of the officers yelled.

  Thor protested that Jane was sick. He could tell that something was wrong, but the police did not back down.

  Jane tried to calm him down, but was suddenly too weak to even stand. Thor contemplated for a moment, then kneeled down beside Jane. “Close your eyes,” he instructed as he lifted her into his arms. Everything went silent. Then everything and anything that wasn’t nailed down to the ground began to shake, and with a deafening BOOM! the Bifrost shot down to Earth and whisked Thor and Jane up into the sky.