Land of Lost Things

by Cat Weldon

  ‘We could ask you the same question, Freyja,’ Glinting-Fire sniffed. ‘Haven’t you got some perfect porridge to make?’

  Freyja put her hands on her hips. ‘I’m looking for my cat – he never normally stays out this late. I’ve used magic to track him this far, but then the trail vanishes.’

  ‘It must’ve snuck out through the gates,’ Glinting-Fire said brusquely. ‘You should take better care of your pets.’

  ‘Here, kitty, kitty, kitty! Time for din dins!’ Freyja called. A crackle of red light shot out of the Goddess’s hands, tracing a path along the ground. ‘See, it goes out through the gates, then nothing.’

  A shape appeared in the murk just outside the gates.

  ‘Wait, there is something out there,‘ Flee murmured.

  ‘Lost your cat, Freyja?’ Loki asked, stepping through the archway and brushing back his golden hair. ‘I do hope nothing has happened to it.’

  Freyja curled her lip.

  ‘Loki!’ Flay laughed, suddenly energized. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘And why are you all wet?’ Flee added.

  A cloud of green light and steam filled the air, making everyone cough. Loki emerged, now dry, from the cloud.

  ‘Yuck, Loki fumes.’ Freyja grimaced. Holding her sleeve over her nose, the Goddess backed away. Red light flashed and crackled as she continued calling for her cat.

  Glinting-Fire stepped forward, her clipboard tucked under her arm. ‘Loki, I’ve been waiting for you. Ready for Phase Two?’

  A smile appeared on the handsome man’s face.

  Chapter Nine

  Big Trouble

  The rattling noises led Whetstone and Lotta away from the riverbank and into an open meadow. Well, it would have been open once. Now it was crammed full of apparently random things: weapons, jewellery, blankets, carved toys and musical instruments all jostled for space, forming heaps that towered over their heads.

  Whetstone stopped in his tracks, amazed. ‘What is all this stuff?’

  Lotta shrugged. ‘Helheim is the Land of Lost Things. These are the Lost Things.’ Lotta ran her hand over an embroidered tunic. ‘We need to find a way of getting in touch with Asgard. Someone is bound to have lost something we can use. Just look out for anything magical.’

  Whetstone hesitated. A pocketful of golden coins rained down, landing with a ringing clatter inside a nearby metal helmet. Whetstone gazed at them longingly. Even though he had given up being a thief, gold still made his fingers itch. Lotta grabbed his arm.

  ‘I was only looking!’

  ‘Shhh!’ The girl crept forward, her eyes fixed on something in a pile of blankets.

  ‘What is it?’

  Lotta ignored him. Instead, she dived head first into the heap. Loud spitting, yowling and a sneeze followed. Lotta rolled out of the pile, clutching Freyja’s cat to her chest. She got to her knees, looking happier than she had since they’d arrived. ‘Got you.’

  Whetstone laughed. ‘I suppose we did lose it.’

  The cat leaped out of Lotta’s arms, landing halfway up a hill of odd socks and broken hairbrushes.

  ‘Oi, come back!’ Lotta scrambled after it, sending an avalanche of chess pieces sliding down the lower slopes.

  ‘Do we really need the cat?’ Whetstone called as she disappeared.

  ‘Yes!’ Lotta’s voice bounced back to him, the sound distorting through a large bronze battle horn. ‘Odin will be angry if I don’t deliver it!’

  Whetstone rolled his eyes – she had a point. He shuffled after her.

  A heap of boat hooks and lost oars shifted, revealing a large silver coin perched in a nest of ropes. Whetstone picked it up, the metal cool and smooth in his fingers. Maybe this was the sort of thing Lotta was looking for; it looked kind of magical. He turned it over.

  Whetstone dropped the coin as if it had turned red hot, his pulse thudding loudly in his ears. Suddenly he didn’t want to be alone among the mountains of junk. ‘Lotta, where are you?’ He clambered up the heap of odd socks and slid down a mound of jingling spoons on the other side.

  With a wave of relief, he spotted Lotta kneeling in a patch of grass. Whetstone hurried towards her. ‘We need to get out of here. I just found— What is that ?’

  Lotta was peering carefully into a wide, shallow bowl. It glowed with a warm light, casting strange shadows on to the girl’s face.

  Whetstone leaned over Lotta’s shoulder to get a better look. The bowl was filled with a curious amber liquid, and, instead of his own grubby face reflected in it, a picture of a room appeared. Suddenly, the room vanished and a group of tents in a field replaced it. The cat purred and rubbed itself against the bowl; the liquid inside burbled.

  The boy dropped to his knees. ‘What is this thing?’

  ‘It was in that box.’ Lotta pointed at a broken wooden case. ‘I landed on it when I was chasing the cat.’

  Whetstone flipped the box over. The runes: To Njord, from Odin were carved into the lid.

  Lotta rubbed her eyes. ‘I think it’s a scrying bowl. I’ve seen Frigg use one for fortune-telling.’

  Whetstone sat back on his heels. ‘We don’t need to tell our fortunes! I know Loki is looking for me. I just found a coin with a message on it.’ He swallowed. ‘Do you think he’s trying to reach Hel?’

  ‘That would make sense,’ Lotta muttered, still peering into the bowl. ‘Where is the coin now?’

  Whetstone glanced over his shoulder. ‘I dropped it. I think we should focus on getting my dad and the harp string and getting out of here. Not messing around with weird bowls.’ Whetstone tapped the rim of the bowl, sloshing the liquid.

  Lotta poked him in the forehead. ‘Think for moment, will you? It’s obvious that something strange is going on. We were both lured to the exact same place in the ocean at the exact same time, where – miraculously – Loki turns up and horrible Flee steals my horse? That’s not a coincidence.’

  Whetstone shrugged. ‘Snotra made a deal with Loki.’

  ‘But who sent Flee? Someone in Asgard must be working with Loki, even after Odin told everyone to leave him alone.’ Lotta tapped the bowl. ‘If I can figure out how this works, we can use it to reach Scold. Don’t you want to find out what is going on before we go marching into Helheim?’

  Whetstone drummed his fingers on his knees. Most of the trouble they’d got into last time was from making decisions without having all the facts. ‘All right, what do we have to do? I thought you had to eat weird herbs or go into a trance or something to do magic.’

  Lotta snorted. ‘You do that – I’ll keep trying this.’

  Whetstone looked around for inspiration, his thoughts spinning. ‘Freyja is magic, right?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘So maybe her cat is too?’ Whetstone grabbed some loose fur off the cat’s back and tossed it into the bowl. Immediately, the liquid started to fizz. A flash of red light nearly blew off their eyebrows, but then a bronze sky appeared in the liquid.

  ‘I cannot believe that worked,’ Lotta breathed, leaning closer.

  A pair of dark caves appeared.

  ‘I didn’t know there were caves in Asgard,’ muttered Whetstone.

  Lotta shook her head. ‘There aren’t.’ She reached out to touch the amber liquid. The image flickered, and the caves – twitched?

  ‘Are those . . . nostrils?’ Whetstone wrinkled up his own nose. ‘Eurgh! Are we looking up someone’s nose?’

  The caves twitched again. The owner of the nose was turning her head. Long black hair twisted with gold thread blocked their view before being brushed aside by fingers covered in golden jewellery. The bottom of a graceful jaw and an ear appeared. A woman’s laugh echoed up through the pool. The cat rubbed itself against the bowl and purred.

  Lotta grabbed Whetstone’s arm. ‘It’s Freyja!’

  Whetstone lunged forward. ‘Really? She’s supposed to be the most beautiful woman who ever lived!’

  Freyja’s voice rippled out of the bowl. ‘Go away, Loki. I’m busy.
’

  Whetstone flinched again.

  Freyja continued speaking. ‘If I’d found it, I wouldn’t still be looking, would I?’ A man’s voice murmured in the background. Freyja’s nostrils flared. ‘No, you won’t. I know you, Loki. Where have you been anyway?’

  Lotta looked at Whetstone and mouthed, ‘Inside a dragon’s bum.’ Whetstone couldn’t help but giggle. Lotta elbowed him in the ribs.

  ‘Did you just laugh at me?’ Freyja sounded irritated now. The bronze sky wobbled as she took a step forward. A sliver of Loki’s face appeared in the pool as Freyja waggled a bejewelled finger at him. Whetstone and Lotta both shrank back. ‘I know you’re up to something with the Valkyries. Just stay out of my way.’ Freyja spun on her heel and marched off.

  ‘What does she mean, Loki is up to something with the Valkyries?’ Lotta hissed.

  Whetstone shrugged.

  The pool went dark as a hand loomed. The picture wobbled, and an upside-down woman’s face appeared. Whetstone tried not to stare.

  ‘Who’s there?’ she asked.

  Lotta swallowed. ‘Er, hi, Freyja.’

  The woman scowled. ‘YOU!’ Lotta sat up straight and saluted. Whetstone tried to smile, but his lips got stuck to his teeth. ‘How did you get into my necklace? Oh, never mind. Let me get inside.’

  The pool returned to the picture of the dark caves. The bronze sky above them wobbled as the woman walked.

  ‘What does she mean, inside her necklace?’ Whetstone whispered to Lotta.

  ‘Don’t you know anything? Her necklace is magical. It was made for her by the Dwarves. We must be looking out of it.’

  The picture dimmed as the woman stepped through a doorway. The sky was replaced by a high-arched ceiling. The bowl juddered as she removed the necklace.

  Whetstone ran his sleeve over his face and tried to stick his hair down. Lotta looked at him and rolled her eyes.

  Freyja’s face reappeared, the right way up this time. ‘Explain.’

  ‘Er, we found a scrying bowl,’ Lotta began.

  ‘Why is she wearing a dressing gown?’ Whetstone whispered.

  ‘I can hear you.’ Freyja knotted the robe around her. ‘I haven’t been to bed yet. I was out all night looking for my cat.’

  Lotta twisted her fingers together. ‘Your cat? Well, it didn’t quite make it to Njord, I’m afraid—’

  Freyja’s jaw visibly clenched. ‘That cat is stolen property. You had better bring it back to me right now.’

  Lotta’s face scrunched up. ‘Stolen? But Glinting-Fire said you gave it to her—’

  ‘I do not give away cats!’

  Lotta waved her hands. ‘It’s fine! The cat’s fine, though!’ She scooped up the purring animal. ‘See? Achoo!’ The cat wiggled out of her hands.

  ‘Just don’t tell her about you dropping it,’ Whetstone muttered.

  Freyja tossed her head. ‘And you left that infuriating cup here. It keeps trying to give me biscuit recipes.’

  Lotta bit her lip. ‘Oh, er, so everyone knows about that?’

  Whetstone wrinkled his nose. ‘What cup?’

  ‘I borrowed Awfulrick’s cup to help me win the poetry contest.’ Lotta avoided his eyes. ‘Because I wanted to come back to Midgard to see you.’

  ‘Oh.’ The memory of Awfulrick mentioning that Lotta had left a message surfaced in Whetstone’s mind. He’d forgotten how hard Lotta had worked to come back to Midgard.

  ‘I was supposed to bring it back to Awfulrick,’ Lotta gabbled, ‘but it was enjoying itself in Asgard and—’

  Freyja fixed her eyes on Lotta, golden threads sparkling in her hair. Lotta sputtered to a halt.

  ‘You’re in big trouble, young lady.’

  Lotta hung her head. She was always in trouble. What else was new?

  Freyja tutted. ‘Stop looking like someone’s just trod on your birthday cake. You’re not in trouble with me.’

  Lotta looked up. ‘Is it Scold? It wasn’t cheating, not really—’

  ‘Scold isn’t here – that’s part of the problem!’

  Lotta’s eyebrows shot upwards. Scold was as much part of Asgard as Valhalla was. She was always there.

  ‘Pay attention, both of you,’ Freyja snapped. Whetstone sat up straight, trying to look attentive and efficient. ‘Lotta, you were tricked. We’ve all been tricked. The poetry contest was fixed.’

  Lotta’s mouth fell open.

  ‘Njord was waiting by the coast for his parcel – Glinting-Fire sent you to the wrong place on purpose,’ Freyja continued. ‘It was an excuse to get you out of Asgard.’

  ‘Me? But why?’ Lotta stammered.

  Freyja sighed, making the liquid ripple. ‘Because of him.’

  Whetstone’s cheeks grew hot.

  ‘It shouldn’t be me telling you this, but . . .’ Freyja glanced over her shoulder. ‘Something is going on with the Valkyries.’ She held up a hand to prevent Lotta interrupting. ‘I don’t know exactly what, but Asgard is full of rumours. The short one with the tattoos and the clipboard is up to something. She’s convinced Scold to go to Alfheim for a holiday.’

  Lotta snorted with laughter. ‘Scold – on holiday?’ She had a sudden vision of the mighty Valkyrie sitting on a sun lounger, rubbing suntan lotion into her muscular arms.

  Freyja snapped. ‘With Scold gone, who is in charge of the Valkyries?’

  ‘Odin, the Allfather, the Spear Shaker, the Terrifying One-Eyed—’

  Freyja rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, but who actually gives the orders? Who organizes everything?’

  Lotta screwed up her face. ‘Scold. And if she’s gone . . . I guess Glinting-Fire would take over.’

  Freyja nodded. ‘Precisely. And now she’s got Loki helping her.’

  Lotta’s brown eyes opened wide.

  ‘But if this Glinting-Fire person is up to something with Loki, why hasn’t Odin stopped her?’ Whetstone asked.

  ‘Odin has left Asgard.’

  ‘WHAT?’ Again?’ Lotta cried.

  ‘Oh, I’ve heard of this.’ Whetstone leaned forward. ‘Doesn’t he go off for a wander around the Nine Worlds every so often?’

  ‘That man is infuriating.’ Freyja crossed her arms. ‘You would think he’d take his responsibilities a bit more seriously. Loki fed him some ridiculous story about the Giants having magic mead, so he’s gone off to Jotunheim to check. Normally Scold would send the Valkyries to keep an eye on him, but Glinting-Fire won’t let anyone go. She’s even got Valkyries guarding the gates so no one can leave Asgard without her sayso. She says Odin will come back when he’s ready. Frigg has been going bonkers.’

  ‘So, no Odin, no Scold, and Glinting-Fire is plotting with Loki to get rid of me?’ Lotta quavered.

  Whetstone scrunched up his face. ‘But why? Lotta’s not important.’

  Lotta’s nostrils flared.

  Freyja waggled a finger. ‘She is unique. How often do Valkyries make friends with humans?’

  Whetstone sat up straight. ‘So it’s because of me – because I’m a Hero?’

  Freyja ignored him. She fixed her eyes on Lotta. ‘My guess is that Glinting-Fire is planning something to do with Midgard. She doesn’t want you chatting with your BFF and spilling the beans.’

  Lotta wrinkled her nose. ‘I wouldn’t say we were best friends—’

  Freyja spoke over her. ‘That’s not all. She got rid of your shield too.’

  Lotta gasped, her face taking on a greenish tinge. ‘My shield?’

  Freyja nodded. ‘I overheard her talking to those snobby twins while I was looking for Mr Tiddles.’

  The cat looked up at the sound of his name. Whetstone bit the inside of his mouth to keep himself from laughing. Mr Tiddles! Then he saw the expression on Lotta’s face. ‘What’s the big deal?’ He shrugged. ‘It’s only a shield. You can probably find a better one here along with a new helmet and sword.’

  ‘Only a shield?’ Lotta croaked. ‘It’s where my Valkyrie powers are stored. Without it, I’ll stop being a Valkyrie and
turn into . . . into . . .’

  ‘Come on – you can say it,’ Whetstone prompted.

  ‘A living human!’ Lotta snapped. ‘That’s why I couldn’t transform into a bird properly and just got the wings. I’m not a real Valkyrie without my shield.’

  ‘It could’ve been worse – you could’ve ended up with bird feet, or a tail!’ Whetstone snickered. ‘Come on – it can’t be that bad.’

  ‘Not that bad!’

  Freyja sniffed. ‘The silver girls said they gave it to Hel. You need to go to Helheim and fetch it, quickly. If not, you’ll lose your powers and change permanently.’

  ‘But we’re in—’ Lotta began.

  ‘But you haven’t said what Loki—’ Whetstone started at the same time.

  ‘What? I can’t hear you.’ The picture rippled, distorting Freyja’s face. ‘The connection is breaking. Get out of my necklace, get the shield and get home before it’s too late. And don’t forget to bring my cat!’

  The amber liquid undulated and Freyja vanished.

  Lotta tapped the surface of the liquid, sending out new ripples. ‘Hello? HELLO?’

  Only their bewildered faces stared back.

  Whetstone sat back on his heels. ‘I think she’s gone.’

  Lotta stood up, scooping the reluctant cat back into her arms. ‘Achoo!’ She wiped her nose on her wrist guard. ‘What are we hanging around here for? Let’s get over that river and get my shield.’

  Whetstone stood up, brushing grass off his knees. ‘Your shield, the harp string, my dad. At this rate, we’re going to have to write a list.’

  Lotta gave a grim smile. ‘Then when I get back to Asgard I’m going to cut off Flay’s other plait.’

  Chapter Ten

  Crossing the Bridge

  Leaving the mountains of Lost Things behind, they returned to the rushing river. Whetstone reluctantly lugging the large, fluffy cat in his arms. He nearly tripped over Lotta as she stopped suddenly at the top of the riverbank. The water below them was filled with broken weapons. Rusted armour poked up here and there. A shield swirled past, caught in an eddy.