The bird flew in front of him, leading him through winding stairways until he was in a wide marble-floored hall with tall columns and windows that looked out onto the city. Several guards saw him and sent up an alarm, swarming like ants as Creed had described them. Powerful, angry, ants. There would be more on the way, but for now there were only five Asgardians. The bird landed on Creed’s shoulder and let out a harsh wordless cry. An archer, possibly the same who’d crippled the feral’s arm before, fired off an arrow. The deadly barb streaked toward his heart. As before, the arrow stopped in front of the feral and his new companion, stopped by the avian’s force field. Creed felt the bird’s sharp talons shift slightly, barely ticking against his skin, and the arrow shattered in an explosion of wood splinters.
“Keep him from your thoughts.” The magpie said in a quiet chirp, as if for only Creed to hear. How the words formed from a bird’s beak was incomprehensible, but the evidence was hard to deny when the creature spoke from a perch on one’s shoulder. It was no longer mindless chirping and seemed immune to Odin’s influence. Arrows continued to streak at them and one by one each shattered against the magpie’s shield. “Your body is your own so long as you do not think of turning against him. Convince yourself that what you do is for his greater glory. There is truth in lies…it will serve you now.”
“I am with you.” It turned its head slightly to fix its fiery emerald gaze upon him. “Your freedom is in the Tesseract… I will take you to it.” It said in the same calm, implacable tone. It turned its gaze away from him then, fixing on a guard that approached with an upraised axe, bellowing a war-cry.
“Death!” The magpie cried, wings flaring. It would let Creed defend himself, give him a chance to feel blood on his claws again. Not only was it satisfying for the magpie, but it knew the death would assure Creed that he was not tamed. Even Sleipnir was capable of dealing death so long as the stallion schooled his thoughts. The magpie was certain that Victor Creed possessed enough discipline to concentrate only on the killing and following black feathers to freedom.