The Rubicus Prophecy

by Alane Adams

  Past Praise for the Witches of Orkney series

  For The Blue Witch, Book 1 in the Witches of Orkney series

  2019 American Fiction Awards: WINNER, Juvenile Fiction FINALIST, Best Cover Design: Children’s Book

  “ An enchanting new book full of magical mischief and adventure, Alane Adams’s The Blue Witch is guaranteed to please.”

  —Foreword Clarion Reviews

  “ Bright, brave characters star in this exhilarating tale of magic and mystical creatures.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  The Rubicus Prophecy

  Copyright © 2019 Alane Adams

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Published by SparkPress, a BookSparks imprint,

  A division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC

  Phoenix, Arizona, USA, 85007

  www.gosparkpress.com

  Published 2019

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-1-943006-98-4 (pbk)

  ISBN: 978-1-943006-99-1 (e-bk)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019906676

  Illustrations by Jonathan Stroh

  Interior design by Tabitha Lahr

  All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Names and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of certain individuals.

  To Nickolas S.

  and

  Andre E.

  Prologue

  Midgard

  Odin’s Fifth Realm

  Home of Mankind Ancient Times

  Hermodan, King of the Orkney Isles, stood alone in the center of the Ring of Brogar. The ring, formed by oblong stones thrown down by the gods eons ago, cast ominous shadows around him. In his hands, he held Odin’s Stone, a heavy shield made of carved granite inlaid with bronze and imbued with magic from the powerful all-father god himself.

  “Catriona!” he called. “I challenge you to face me.”

  A witch dressed in an ankle-length black gown stepped into the ring. She had waist-long gray hair and piercing green eyes that blazed with power.

  Catriona. The most hateful witch alive.

  Her seven sister witches moved in to stand behind her. They were the last of the Volgrims, an ancient line more powerful than their sister coven, the Tarkanas.

  Outside the ring, a battle raged on, but Hermodan blocked out the noise. In this, he would not, could not, fail. All of mankind depended on him being brave.

  Catriona sneered with laughter as she eyed Hermodan. “You think you can defeat me with a chunk of stone? I swore vengeance on you and your kind when Odin removed my father’s head.”

  “Rubicus would have killed everyone, even you, with that curse on the sun,” Hermodan answered.

  “No. He would have found a way,” she spat back. “He just needed time. Now you will have eternity to regret what that insufferable god did in your name. Mankind will crumble at my feet. My army of witches will spread throughout the nine realms until we chase Odin into the netherworld, never to be seen or heard from again.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Hermodan thrust the shield into the sky. “I call on the power of the gods to have mercy on mankind. Protect us in our hour of need.”

  A jagged burst of lightning split the sky and hit the shield, sending a jolt through him that nearly buckled his knees. Pale blue fire erupted from the shield, sending dazzling fingers of light to each of the standing stones in the ring. As the bluish fire encircled the stones, they began to glow from within.

  “Let this be an end to war!” Hermodan shouted. “Send these witches away forever!”

  The seven witches behind Catriona began sliding backward, each pulled toward a different glowing stone until their backs were stuck against the rocks.

  “Catriona, help me!” one of them called, flailing at the air like a turtle on its back.

  “Agathea!”

  Catriona whirled, sending out a blast of magic, but before it could destroy the rock, Agathea was sucked inside. One by one, the other six witches were entombed until only Catriona remained.

  Hermodan turned the full force of Odin’s Stone on her, bathing her in a wash of pale blue light. Sweat ran down his face, and his arms shuddered with fatigue, but he held steadfast.

  Catriona fought against its magic, firing back with her deadly witchfire. She dug her heels in, but even her great power could not withstand the magic in Odin’s Stone.

  Slowly, she slid backward until her back pressed against a rock. Her lower half disappeared first. She strained outward, trying to pull herself free, but inch by inch, her body got sucked inward until only her face remained.

  Her eyes bulged wildly as she screamed, “I will return one day!”

  And then she was gone.

  Exhausted, Hermodan dropped the shield to the ground and raised his hand to signal. From the surrounding hills, trumpets blared out their victory.

  “The war is over!” Hermodan called as the battlefield quieted and the remaining witches and their army of magicked Balfin soldiers slowly lowered their hands. “Let there be no more fighting.”

  He searched the faces of the survivors. The white-haired Eifalians with their gentle magic had lost many today. The fierce Falcory warriors with their hawklike features were few in number. His own Orkadian soldiers had taken a grave toll, with too many fallen to count. The witches huddled together in a knot while their Balfin guards rumbled angrily.

  A sudden whirling wind kicked up grit, and then in a clap of thunder, Odin appeared inside the ring of stones. The god wore a simple tunic with a golden belt that glinted in the sunlight. He stood tall, his white beard neatly trimmed, but his face was marked with worry.

  “Today’s battle could very well have spelled the end of mankind,” he said in a booming voice that carried over the battlefield.

  “Thanks to you, Odin, we have prevailed!” came a shout, and a chorus of cheers rang out.

  Odin held his hand up for silence. “The shifting sands of time decree the gods will not always be around to step in. Therefore, from this day forward, no longer will magic be allowed in the world of man. All who possess it will be stripped of their powers.”

  There was a collective gasp from the crowd and screams of horror from the remaining witches.

  “I am sorry it has come to this,” Odin said, “but I see no other way to protect mankind.” He raised his hand to carry out his order.

  “Wait!” Hermodan cried. “The Eifalians have come to our aid time and again. The Falcory fought bravely by our side. Not all creatures of magic are bad. Surely there must be another way.”

  Odin hesitated. “What do you propose?”

  Hermodan thought quickly. His kingdom was made up of many scattered islands. Surely, he could spare a small piece of it?

  “Take some of my islands into Asgard, and with them, all creatures of magic. Give them a safe haven in your ninth realm, apart from mankind.”

  Odin eyed him quizzically. “You would do this? Sacrifice part of your kingdom for these people?”

  Hermodan looked at his brave friends and nodded. “Again and again. And I will send some of my own people to help in this new world.”

  “Then let it be so.” Odin thrust his clenched fists toward the sky.

  The band of witches hurried into the ring, but Odin cast his hands down.

  “No. Your kind is
not welcome.”

  A tall witch with stringy hair cried out, “Would you abandon us? We are nothing without our powers.” Her arms were wrapped around two younger witches, who looked terrified.

  Odin’s voice held no mercy. “Would you expect me to let you keep them? There is nothing but evil within you.”

  “No, that was the Volgrim witches. We are Tarkanas,” she said. “We can be different. We can change.”

  “She speaks the truth.” Hermodan stepped forward. “I have met some that have the potential to do right. They deserve another chance.”

  Odin’s eyes narrowed. “Are you certain this is what you wish?”

  Hermodan’s gaze traveled to his Eifalian and Falcory friends. They didn’t look happy, but they nodded agreement.

  “Then it shall be so.” Odin beckoned, and the huddled group of witches hurried forward into the ring.

  He clasped his hands and thrust them high. The golden belt at his waist began to glow. Bursts of lightning streaked across the sky, and the air gusted around the armies in a swirling vortex. The ground under their feet jolted sharply, as if being tugged by some unseen force.

  When the winds settled and the dizzy feeling of spinning stopped, Hermodan looked around. It was the same but … different. The air crackled with a sort of energy and power. The sky was a bright blue that hurt his eyes.

  “Welcome to Asgard,” Odin said.

  “Thank you.” Hermodan dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “How can we ever repay you?”

  “Don’t thank me. This may yet end badly. Now I must go explain what I’ve done to the Council of the Gods. I expect they will be less than pleased.”

  “What of your Stone?” Hermodan pointed at the heavy shield at his feet. “This war is over. We will never be in danger like that again.”

  Odin looked thoughtful. “I suggest you keep it. With those witches along, I suspect you’ll be needing it again someday.”

  Chapter 1

  “What do you think, Abigail? Does my braid look too tight?”

  Abigail adjusted the long pleat that hung down Safina’s back. “No, it looks perfect. You’ll be the prettiest firstling ever.”

  “Do you really think so?” Safina looked up at Abigail with wide green eyes.

  Abigail smiled. “Think so? I know so. Now, did you pack all your things?”

  They ran through the list of simple items the girl had. Like Abigail, Safina was an orphan, although there was no mystery about what had happened to her mother. Heralda had been caught in a lightning storm in the middle of using a divining spell, and the result had been disastrous.

  “Now, what do you do when Madame Vex greets you?” Abigail prompted.

  “Say, ‘Good day, Madame Vex, pleased to meet you.’” Safina dipped into a curtsy.

  “Perfect. And when it’s time to choose a roommate?”

  “Find the closest girl and lock arms.” She thrust her elbow around Abigail’s and grinned up at her. She had a gap between her front teeth and a sprinkle of freckles on her nose. “I wish you and I could be roommates. Then you wouldn’t be all alone.”

  “I like my attic room just fine.” Abigail tapped the girl on the nose. It was the truth; she’d grown used to the attic’s dusty corners and cozy rafters. And being alone wasn’t so bad.

  “Will I see you much?” Safina’s lower lip wobbled a bit.

  Abigail gave her a swift hug. “When I can. I’ll be busy with classes, and so will you—too busy to miss me.”

  Safina gazed at her earnestly. “I know being stuck here at the Creche all summer looking after us wasn’t much fun for you, but I’m glad I got to know you better. Will you walk with me? All the way to the gates?”

  The other firstlings had already stormed out like a herd of sneevils, fussed over by fawning witch mothers who had found time to see them off. Abigail and Safina were the last to go.

  “I suppose I can walk you to the gate,” Abigail said, “but you’ll have to go in by yourself. Witchlings mustn’t show weakness.”

  “My witch’s heart is made of stone,” Safina piped up, reciting their code.

  “That’s right,” Abigail said, but she flinched at the words. She hated the Witches’ Code, hated reciting it. It always made her feel … less. As if it was chipping away at her, shaping her into something else. “Come now, I think Old Nan’s baked some fresh jookberry scones. Let’s see if there are any left.”

  The firstling chattered away as they made the long walk to the gates of the Tarkana Fortress, nibbling on the fresh scones. Safina was a sweet witchling, but soon enough she would learn the ways of witchery, and she would be like all the rest. Cold. Ruthless. Ready to cast a spell on any who crossed her.

  Before long, the iron gates loomed in front of them. Safina gazed up, her eyes wide.

  “Don’t pinch me if I’m dreaming,” she whispered. “I don’t ever want to wake up. I can’t believe I’m really here. I’m going to be a witch.”

  “Not if you don’t go inside.” Abigail gave her a little nudge, and the girl took a step forward before turning to flash a grin.

  “I’m going to be the greatest witch ever,” she said, then ducked inside the gates.

  Abigail sighed. She’d thought the same thing on her first day. Now she wasn’t so sure what she wanted. Finding out her father was a real live star had made Abigail question who she really was. It didn’t help that a murky mystery surrounded her mother. She wished she could just talk to her, find out why she had run away.

  As Abigail headed for the ivy-covered dormitory tower, she noticed the firstlings were crowding around something, talking excitedly. Curious, she elbowed her way into the center and gasped.

  Growing out of the cracks of the cobblestones was a flower on a thick green stalk, nearly as tall as she was. It looked like an ordinary sunflower, but its petals were blood red. Its thick round center pulsed slightly, as though something living were inside. Abigail looked around and then backed away, filled with a sudden dread.

  The flower was growing in the exact spot where the viken had attacked her and nearly ended her life.

  Chapter 2

  Abigail hurried toward the dormitory, needing to escape the memory of that awful night. She stepped inside the low door, taking in the familiar sight of the comfy couches and dusty bookshelves in the entry. The sounds of girls chattering and doors slamming drifted down the stairs as the rest of the witchlings got ready to begin the school year. Most of the older girls had returned from their summer break yesterday, but Old Nan had asked Abigail to stay an extra day.

  She ran her hand along the iron bannister as she made her way up to her attic room. Pushing the door open, she was surprised to see a girl sitting on the bed, hands folded on her lap.

  “Calla! Whatever are you doing here?”

  The former glitch-witch flung herself forward to wrap Abigail in a tight hug. “I’ve been waiting forever. I thought you’d never come.” Calla’s hair was cut in a fresh bob, and her eyes glowed with excitement.

  “I was helping the firstlings get ready. How are you?”

  “Good! Aunt Hestera invited me to spend the summer with her traveling around to faraway islands. I saw real snow! You can’t imagine how proud of me she is now that I have my magic. She says she knew all along I would get my powers, that I was just a late bloomer.”

  Actually, it had been Abigail who had given Calla her magic back, but Abigail didn’t care. It was just so good to see a friendly face.

  “Sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye before I left. How was your summer?” Calla asked. “Which instructor took you on a trip? Was it Madame Arisa? I hear she took a boatload of girls to an island infested with biters.”

  Their instructors all took students they thought showed promise on summer trips, spending weeks away from the school in exotic locations. Of course, Endera and her pals, Glorian and Nelly, had been chosen by Endera’s mother, Melistra, to go to a top-secret spell-casting camp. The ever-popular Portia and a dozen other girls
had gone with Madame Radisha to collect rare plants for potions class on the far side of Balfour Island. Even the quietest of them, a girl named Ambera, had been handpicked by their Animals, Beasts, and Creatures professor, Madame Barbosa, to study a pair of two-headed shreeks in the swamps.

  Abigail pinned a bright smile on. “Oh, you know, I stayed around here. Someone has to watch the younglings.”

  “What?” Calla’s mouth formed a round O of shock. “Abigail, you didn’t!”

  Abigail shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s just, after the viken attacked me, I couldn’t get back to my studies as quickly as I’d hoped, and I fell behind.” The deep bite had grown infected and laid her up for days. “Madame Vex let me make up the work over the summer.”

  Calla grimaced. “It was all Melistra’s fault. And Endera’s. They should pay for what they did.”

  If only it were that simple, Abigail thought, but she said, “It’s over now. Starting fresh, right?”

  “Right. Oh, I almost forgot. Hugo has a message for you.”

  “You saw Hugo?” She hadn’t seen him since the end of the school year. The Balfin boy had been lucky enough to spend the summer as that crusty old sailor Jasper’s deckhand.

  “When I returned with my aunt, he was helping Jasper unload his boat. He wants to see you. This morning before class. Speaking of which, I must be off. Aunt Hestera wants to wish me good luck before I start.”

  “Let me be the first. Good luck as a thirdling.”

  Calla grinned. “Didn’t you hear? I’m staying back a year. Madame Vex thought I could use another year to catch up, and my great-aunt agreed. I’ll be in all your classes.”

  Abigail’s spirits lifted. Having a real friend around would help her combat the constant bullying from Endera and her cronies. “That’s wonderful! Well, I better go, too, if I’m going to meet Hugo and not be late.”

  “Don’t forget your class list.” Calla grabbed a sheet of paper off the bed and thrust it into Abigail’s hands. Abigail tucked it into her book bag, and the two girls hurried down the stairs, parting outside.