by Cat Weldon
‘You broke your word,’ Whetstone spluttered, his cheeks pink. ‘What about the thing with the snakes?’
Hel shrugged. ‘I like snakes.’ The Helhest throne melted away, lowering the Queen of the Dead to the floor before rejoining the shadows around the Great Hall.
Lotta ground her teeth. A dozen feathers dropped out of one wing. ‘What’s the next contest? We beat you once – we can do it again.’ She marched up to Hel. ‘And, this time, no cheating. Whoever wins keeps the shield.’
‘Oh, I’ll be keeping it all right,’ Hel agreed. ‘The second challenge will be tomorrow. Until then you are welcome to rest in the Great Hall – with the rest of my subjects,’ she added with smirk.
Whetstone crossed his arms, anger burning in his chest. ‘No way! I’m not going back into that rubbish dump. You’re a cheat and a liar.’
Hel glowered. ‘Fine. Stay out here, then. See if I care. But, if you don’t compete tomorrow, the shield is definitely mine!’
Lotta’s wings gave a final flicker and vanished. She tumbled forward as her knees gave way. In a panic, Whetstone crouched next to her.
‘Has it got colder suddenly?’ the girl muttered, trying to push herself up. Hel giggled.
An icy dart ran through Whetstone’s stomach, overpowering his anger. The run must’ve used up a lot of Lotta’s powers. Whetstone glanced at the sky. The sun still hadn’t moved. ‘How will we know when it’s tomorrow?’ he called as Hel returned to the Great Hall.
‘When I say so, of course,’ Hel replied with a toss of her dead hair.
Chapter Thirteen
Winners and Losers
Whetstone watched Hel and her shadows vanish into the Great Hall. He got to his feet, fear and anger twisting inside him. Lotta groaned, goosebumps rising on her arms as she pushed herself into a sitting position.
‘Don’t try to move.’ Whetstone grabbed a couple of cloaks from where he’d dumped them before the race, and the leather pouch tumbled to the ground. ‘These’ll help.’ He draped them over her.
The enormous grey wolf padded over, sniffing.
‘Get away from her. Go on!’ Whetstone waved his arms, trying to shoo the beast away.
‘Leave him alone. He’s only a puppy.’ Vali stepped out of the shadows. ‘He won’t hurt you. Not on purpose.’
‘Yeah, that’s easy for you to say,’ Whetstone muttered, eyeing the wolf as it licked its lips.
‘I cannot believe you thought Hel would keep her word.’ Vali tutted, his skin glittering like quartz. ‘I didn’t think even you were that thick.’
‘If she tries to trick us again tomorrow, I’m going to poke her in the t-teeth with my s-sword,’ Lotta grunted, her fingers scrabbling in the earth for her scabbard.
‘I’d like to see that.’ Vali grinned, his own teeth pearly white. ‘But it won’t happen. You’ll lose and be stuck here forever.’
‘N-no we w-wont,’ Lotta chattered. ‘Tomorrow w-we get the shield and th-then w-we’ll go.’ She shivered and dragged the cloaks in closer with shaking fingers. ‘Do you always feel this c-cold?’ she asked Whetstone. ‘I always th-thought humans were being melodramatic with their fur-lined vests and woolly socks.’
Vali sighed. ‘There are three problems with your plan. One: she’ll never let you win, not after you beat her today.’
‘W-we’ll figure something out.’
Vali pulled out a knife. ‘Two: even if you do get the shield back, there’s no way to leave Helheim.’ Beside him Fenrir sat on his haunches, his tongue lolling out like a blood-red flag.
‘I’ll be able to transform again,’ Lotta mumbled. ‘I’ll fly us out.’
‘And three: whatever she promised, she’s going to tell Father you’re here.’ The knife flashed between Vali’s fingers. ‘She only cares about making Father happy and she knows that giving you to him would make him very happy.’
‘Anyone would think that you were j-jealous, Vali,’ Lotta muttered.
Whetstone swallowed, his throat dry and tight. He wasn’t surprised by Vali’s words, but he still had to finish the quest. He was no closer to finding his father and the harp string than he had been when they arrived. Lotta and her shield problems had slowed everything down, but at least he could use his one question to find out more after they won the second contest.
‘Why do you care what happens to us, Vali?’ Whetstone snapped. ‘Why are you here if it isn’t to help Loki and Hel?’
‘Why are you here?’ Vali retorted. ‘And don’t give me that rubbish about her shield. I know it’s something to do with the riddle.’
Whetstone gulped, trying not to break eye contact with Vali. Eventually, the older boy looked away.
‘Hel would’ve found it if there was a magic harp string here somewhere,’ Vali muttered. ‘You must’ve got it wrong.’
Whetstone tried not to twitch. He’d had those thoughts himself.
‘It doesn’t matter anyway.’ Vali spun the knife in his hand. ‘Hero or not, you’ll be desperate to tell Father the riddle when Hel’s finished with you.’ He walked away, his grey skin vanishing into the shadows, Fenrir at his heels.
Lotta closed her eyes. Whetstone grabbed the rest of their belongings and sank on to the ground next to her. ‘Are you sure we can’t just sneak in now and take the shield? Hel’s already cheated and it would save a lot of bother.’
Lotta shook her head. ‘It won’t work. I have to win it back honourably. It’s a Valkyrie thing.’
‘Do you think Loki will come?’ Whetstone asked, turning the leather pouch over in his hands.
‘With our luck, probably.’ Lotta opened her eyes again. ‘What is that thing?’ She nodded at the pouch.
‘Hod gave it to me when we were in the cage.’ He fumbled with the drawstring before tipping the contents into his palm. ‘It’s a necklace.’ Coloured beads glinted up at him in the red sunlight.
‘Why did he give you a necklace?’ Lotta tilted her head.
‘I don’t know,’ Whetstone muttered, running his fingers over the beads.
‘He’s been stuck at the bridge for too long,’ Lotta sniffed. ‘He’s gone potty. You can give it back to him when he brings the cat.’
‘Maybe it’s a clue.’ Whetstone held the necklace up to the sunlight to inspect it. ‘There might be something carved into it? Or maybe it forms a map or a compass or something? If my dad is here, Hod must’ve seen him arrive, so maybe he’s trying to tell us something without skull-face figuring it out?’ The beads clinked along the thread alongside a strange coin and a tiny model of a fish. ‘The riddle said my dad was still living, and in an ice-locked land.’
Lotta shook her head. ‘Hod also said he hadn’t seen any living humans in Helheim.’
Whetstone pushed the beads along the thread, watching as they slid up and down. ‘I wish there was someone else we could ask,’ he muttered.
‘Maybe your dad is in Niflheim or Jotunheim – they’re both icy,’ Lotta suggested. ‘I really don’t think you should pin your hopes on that crazy old man by the bridge.’
Unnoticed by Whetstone or Lotta, a shape detached itself from the shadows. Quietly, it slipped through the sunken door and into the Great Hall.
Hel pushed down her hood and smiled. How silly those children were to let their guard down so easily. Now she knew the riddle was about the boy’s father, and that they had travelled here to find him. Hel unbuckled her cloak and dumped it back on to one of the piles of Lost Things. And if he was still living, there was only one person in Helheim that could mean.
A giggle escaped between her needle teeth. Loki would be so pleased when he found out she had the boy and the answer to the riddle. Hel hugged herself – all she had to do was bring them together.
Hel dropped on to a bench beside her stony brother, who shuffled away. ‘Vali . . .’
‘No.’
‘But you don’t know what I’m going to ask.’
‘Still no.’
‘How do you fancy getting back into Daddy’s good
books?’
Vali turned to look at her. ‘What are you talking about?’
Hel leaned closer. ‘I need you to do something for me.’
Vali squinted. ‘This sounds like an excuse to get me to do errands for you. No thanks.’
‘I’m serious.’ Hel put her skeleton hand on his arm. ‘I know who those stupid children are looking for.’
Vali shrugged her off. ‘You don’t know anything.’
Hel’s eyes narrowed. ‘I have the answer to Daddy’s precious riddle – he’s here, in Helheim!’
Vali shoved his hand through his moss-streaked hair and sighed. ‘Father isn’t looking for a person, Hel. He’s looking for a— an object.’
Hel jutted out her jaw. ‘Maybe this person knows where this object is? The boy seemed pretty determined to find him.’
Vali sucked his bottom lip.
‘Do this favour for me,’ Hel said as she skipped away, ‘and I’ll tell Daddy you were helpful. Or don’t and I’ll make sure that being made of stone is the least of your problems.’
Whetstone tried to stay awake, but exhaustion overtook him. Wrapped in spare cloaks, he twitched in an uneasy sleep, dreaming of talking bowls, sea monsters and Loki’s twisted smile.
Beside him, Lotta sat, glaring at Hel’s Great Hall. It might be more uncomfortable out here on the ground, but to go back inside felt like admitting Hel had beaten them. Lotta scratched in the dirt with her fingers. Her shield was so close she could almost reach out and touch it, but it might as well be a million miles away. Lotta shivered despite the many cloaks Whetstone had tucked round her. She was getting weaker. If she didn’t get her shield back soon, it would be too late.
Endless questions churned in her head. Had Glinting-Fire really tried to get rid of her because she was friends with Whetstone, or was Freyja wrong? Surely Odin wouldn’t have left Asgard if he knew Glinting-Fire was stirring up trouble, but what did Hel mean about Odin not being able to stand in their way? Had they done something to him? Loki had mentioned having friends in high places. What was that about? And where was Scold?
Whetstone jerked in his sleep, muttering something about turnips.
Then Lotta wondered what would happen if Whetstone failed to get the harp strings. Would Odin, if he ever came back again, change his mind about Whetstone being a Hero, and what would that mean for her? All she wanted was to go back to Asgard with her shield. She missed Valhalla, she missed Broken Tooth and she even missed Scold telling her off. Lotta squinted into the red sky as tears tried to spill on to her cheeks. Her vision blurred either from tears or because she was losing the connection with her shield.
The door to the Great Hall creaked open. Lotta stood up, hurriedly wiping her eyes, her legs stiff. ‘Is this how humans feel all the time? It’s rubbish,’ she grumbled, poking Whetstone with her foot. ‘Oi, wake up. It’s tomorrow.’
Whetstone blinked himself awake. ‘Is he here? Is it Loki?’
Lotta shook the dust out of her dark curls. ‘Nope. Just his weird offspring.’
‘Watch your language!’ Hel stalked out of the Great Hall, the round shield cradled in her arms. Lotta eyed it hungrily. As Hel propped it against her leg, one of the sections flickered and faded.
‘I’ve decided on the next challenge,’ she said, tapping her bony fingers on the shield’s rim. ‘All you have to do is get the shield away from Fenrir.’ The enormous wolf squeezed his way out of the Great Hall, leaving dog hair stuck in the doorframe.
Whetstone shoved the leather pouch into his pocket and gestured at Vali as he sloped round the corner of the building. ‘Where’s he going?’
Hel smiled, although with her skeleton face it was impossible for her to do anything else. ‘My dear brother is just doing a little job for me – that’s all.’ Vali’s footsteps crunched into the distance.
Hel clicked her fingers. Two dark shapes somewhere between crows and tattered flags detached themselves from the shadowy Helhest and swooped down, landing at her feet. The tattered birds picked up the shield and flapped across the empty landscape, Fenrir bounding after them. The shield tumbled to the dusty ground. The wolf sniffed at it.
‘Oi! Get away from that!’ Lotta waved her arms.
Whetstone dusted himself down. ‘So, we just have to get it back from the giant, terrifying, half-wolf, half-God, then Lotta keeps it. No more tricks?’
Hel nodded. ‘Get the shield and it’s yours. It’s that easy.’
‘Which means it isn’t easy at all.’
Hel gave another skeleton grin, the skin around her eyes crinkling with glee.
Chapter Fourteen
Good Doggy
Two!
Four!
Six!
Eight!
Who do we appreciate?
TEEEEEAAAAM LOKI!
The Hel’s Belles piled on top of each other, forming a human pyramid. Hel stuck a foot into the heap of cheerleaders and was boosted to the top. ‘Get on with it,’ she snapped at Whetstone and Lotta. ‘I want to see Fenrir eat you.’
In the middle of the dusty field, Lotta jutted out her chin. ‘Then you won’t get the riddle.’
Hel grinned. ‘Fenrir! Guard the shield!’
Fenrir curled his lip, a low growl rumbling out. The shield looked no bigger than a dinner plate compared to the monstrous wolf.
Lotta pulled the long sword out of the scabbard on her back. Whetstone shook his head. ‘Why bother – unless you’re planning on giving it to him as a toothpick?’
‘It makes me feel better, OK? It’s a comfort thing.’
The sword’s point wobbled in the air. Whetstone eyed it. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
Lotta tossed her head and nearly overbalanced. ‘Let’s just get on with it.’
The giant wolf splayed out his front paws, lowering his head to the ground. ‘Vali said he was a puppy – maybe he wants to play?’ Whetstone muttered.
‘Good. He can play give me back my shield,’ Lotta replied through gritted teeth.
Whetstone stuck his shaking hands in his pockets, trying to block out the enormous wolf and calm his heartbeat. He ran his fingers over the leather pouch Hod had given him. He was sure the necklace was important somehow. If he could just figure it out. Maybe there was something special about the beads or the charms?
Lotta stepped in front of Whetstone. ‘Are you listening? I need you to concentrate. You lead Fenrir away from the shield while I get it.’
‘How?’ Whetstone turned the pouch over in his pocket.
‘I don’t know! Be your normal annoying self. Maybe he’ll want to eat you?’
Whetstone looked up. ‘Why me? Why don’t you get eaten?’
‘Because I’m getting the shield.’ Lotta gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Fine, whatever. As long as one of us gets the shield. You go left, and I’ll go right. He can’t watch us both at the same time.’ Lotta paused and then awkwardly touched him on the shoulder. ‘We can do this. Let’s go!’ She stumbled away, tracing a large circle round the wolf. ‘And don’t forget – get the shield!’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
Whetstone walked forward, wracking his brains for anything the Angry Bogey had taught him that might help. He didn’t fancy giving Fenrir a smack on the nose and would probably need special equipment to grab him by the scruff of the neck.
The beast shifted, moving from side to side with little jumps. Whetstone approached with careful steps. On the edge of his hearing came the music again. Whetstone pushed it out of his mind; the last thing he needed was to be distracted by spooky tunes right now.
Despite her uneven footsteps, Lotta was quicker and was now level with Fenrir’s front paws. Whetstone dragged his feet across the dusty ground. He really, really did not want to get any closer to Fenrir. He had left the Angry Bogey to get away from wolves, not to spend more time with them.
Fenrir woofed with a voice like one hundred
dogs all barking at once, his head twisting from side to side as he tried to keep both children in view.
Lotta waved her sword and shouted. The wolf snapped his jaws, narrowly missing Lotta’s heels as she dived out of the way.
‘HEY!’ Whetstone cried with a jolt. He ran forward, trying to attract the beast’s attention. The wolf turned, and flying drool splattered all around the boy, covering the ground with puddles.
On the other side of Fenrir, Lotta leaned on the sword to lever herself up, her chest heaving. Whetstone shouted again, hoping to keep the wolf focused on him. Fenrir crept forward, his eyes fixed on Whetstone, his hackles rising. A low growl rumbled out, masking the strange music.
‘SIT!’ Whetstone yelled, doing his best impression of his foster mother. The wolf cocked his head. ‘Lie down! Good boy!’
Fenrir’s ears twitched. Slowly, he stretched out his front paws and lowered his body to the ground. He sniffed at the boy. Whetstone tried to make himself smell inedible. The wolf wagged his tail. With amazement, Whetstone realized that Fenrir really was just a puppy. He wondered how big Fenrir would get when he was fully grown.
‘Do you know any tricks?’ Whetstone called, trying not to look at the enormous teeth. ‘How about roll over?’ Fenrir snapped at him playfully. ‘Or beg?’ Whetstone backed away, the wolf stretching his long body across the ground to follow him.
Something furry rubbed up against Whetstone’s leg. The boy nearly jumped out of his skin. ‘Mr Tiddles!’ Whetstone tried to nudge the cat away with his foot. ‘Get out of here, you stupid cat – you’re going to get eaten!’
‘He’s not the only one,’ said a man’s voice.
Taking his eyes off the wolf for a moment, Whetstone spun round to see a stocky figure in a faded cloak. ‘Hod?’
A grey-faced Vali stepped out from behind Hod, looking even more sour than usual. Whetstone hesitated as he took in the details of what he was seeing. Hod’s hands were bound together with a stout rope.
‘What’s going on?’
