The Gospel of Loki

by Joanne M. Harris

“Well — not bad. Birdbrain can shoot,” I said. “But I can beat him.” “It’s Hawkeye, actually,” said Heimdall, between clenched teeth. “And if you think you’re going to win by standing right next to the target — ” “Now we turn it round,” I said. Once more, Heimdall looked confused. “But that would — ” “Yes. That’s right,” I said. Heimdall shrugged and gestured to the two servants, who obediently turned the target around so that the bull’s-eye was on the back. “Now try to hit the bull’s-eye,” I said. Heimdall sneered. “That’s impossible.” “You’re saying you couldn’t?” “No one could.” I grinned and summoned the rune Kaen. A fiery rune, a quick rune, a shape-shifting, clever, crooked rune. And instead of shooting it straight at the target, as Heimdall had done, I flicked the rune to one side, sending it into a wide curve to double back on itself, ricochet, then strike the bull’s-eye from behind, obliterating Madr in a blaze of violet. A trick shot, but a nice one. I looked at the Old Man. “Well?” I said. Odin laughed. “An impossible shot.” Heimdall snarled. “A trick,” he said. “Nevertheless, Loki wins.”