by Sam Subity
He glanced at Gwynn, then back at me. “When I was looking down into the well, I thought I saw something glowing. So, of course, then I, you know, wasn’t exactly paying attention to where the edge was. And fell in. Anyway, it turns out what I saw was this.” He held it up so we could get a better look. It appeared to be a single flower petal. “I think it may be from that sniffle … you know, the flower we’re looking for?”
“The svefnthorn?” I asked. “How can you tell?”
He stepped back and tilted his chin upward. “Take a look for yourself.”
“Whooooaa …” said Gwynn.
I followed their gazes up to the roof of the chamber, about ten feet above us. A tangle of thick vines with nasty-looking thorns completely covered the ceiling. I reached up in wonder, my eyes suddenly brimming with tears of joy. Among the thorns, tiny, glowing white flowers peeked out at intervals, giving the illusion of looking at a night sky filled with stars.
“No wayyyyy,” I said, looking around with awe. “It’s all over the place. We should have way more than we need here.” My heart raced, already picturing the blush of health returning to my dad’s face.
Gwynn scanned the chamber, looking thoughtful. “I guess the svefnthorn survived the demolition of the greenhouse by working its roots downward into this underground cave, where it grew untouched all these years.”
“I’m amazed the plant survived this long,” I said. “When the botanist said it doesn’t like light, he wasn’t kidding. It’s almost like it thrives without any light at all.”
“Yeah, and makes some of its own,” Grimsby added. “Kind of creepy.”
“But how do we get to it?” Gwynn asked, looking around the chamber. “We need a ladder or something to get up there.”
“What do you mean?” I said. “You’ve got wings. Why don’t you just fly up there and grab some?”
“Well, you know, it’s dark, and I’m not sure I—” she hedged.
“What?” Grimsby cut in. “You need a lighted runway for takeoff or—”
“No, it’s not that. I—”
“Come on, I don’t get it,” he said. “Just fly up there, then.”
She balled her fists and glared at him. “Okay, fine, you want to know the truth? I can’t. I’m the one Valkyrie in the history of Valkyries who can’t fly. Not even a little. I don’t know why. Why do you think I’m studying to be a doctor? Because who needs a Valkyrie who can’t fly? So I figure if I can’t help people after they die, then maybe I can save them from dying at all. Are you happy now?”
She dropped her head and turned away.
Grimsby’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at me, then at Gwynn’s back. An uncomfortable silence filled the cavern. Then he walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean … I didn’t know.”
She sighed. “It’s not your fault. I guess it’s sort of a sore spot for me.” She turned and gave us a crooked smile. “I haven’t exactly told a lot of people about it.”
“Well, your secret is safe with us,” I said. “And anyway, I’m sure we can figure out another way to get a flower.”
Grimsby looked up at the ceiling, then back at me, like he was sizing me up. “Yeah, you should be able to hoist me up, and I’ll pick some flowers.”
“Wait, I’m hoisting you up?”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got the fingers of a surgeon,” he said, holding up his long, thin fingers. “Runs in the family, I guess. I’ll be able to get a flower without getting stabbed by all those thorns.”
“Okay, good point,” I said. I turned to Gwynn. “How many do you think we need?”
Gwynn looked up, studying the vines. “I stopped by the clinic and asked Dr. Swenson about that this morning. She said we’d probably only need a single full bloom.”
My heart tightened as I realized it had been hours since I’d seen my dad. “Did you see … ?”
She nodded reassuringly. “He’s still growing weaker, but he’s a fighter. Like you.”
I nodded and made a quick swipe at my eyes before turning back to Grimsby. “Okay, let’s give it a try.” I knelt down so Grimsby could climb onto my shoulders. He accidentally stepped on my fingers as he struggled to throw his legs over my back.
“Ow!”
“Sorry, it’s dark. Just relax and I’ll—”
“Watch it!” I said as he jammed a finger into my mouth. “Do you have to use my face to steady yourself?”
“Sorrrrry …”
Finally he was on, and I wobbled to my feet. He was surprisingly heavy for having such a slight frame.
“Can you reach it?” I asked.
“Almost. Can you move over to your right a little?”
I shuffled over a couple of paces. “There?”
“No, my right.”
“Your right is my right. We’re facing the same way.”
“Oh, yeah, then I mean your left, or my left … You know what I mean. Yeah, right there.”
He dug his heels into my sides, stretching toward the vines. I grunted as his loafers poked into my ribs.
“Be careful!” Gwynn said. “The flower may be the antidote, but those thorns probably have enough poison in them to knock out an elephant.”
“Almost … got it … OW!”
“What happened? Are you okay?” said Gwynn.
“Yeah, just nicked myself. This thing is pokier than the little puppy.”
“What?” I said.
“Don’t tell me you never read The Poky Little Puppy when you were a kid.”
“No.”
He looked down at me. “What rock did you live under?”
“Hey, it’s not my fault. Bedtime stories at my house were about Viking heroes wrecking man-eating monsters. Not cute little puppies. Anyway, can you grab the flower already? I think I might have dislocated my shoulder.”
I saw Gwynn smiling to herself as she watched us.
“What?” I said defensively.
“Oh, nothing, you two are just like Tweedledum and Tweedledee.”
“Okay … got it!” Grimsby called.
I thought I saw a tiny sort of pulse ripple along the tangle of lighted vines when Grimsby plucked the bud from among them.
“Did you see that?” I asked Gwynn.
“See what?”
Maybe I was just imagining it. “Never mind. It was probably nothing.” Note to future self: Don’t ignore strange things that happen in dark, creepy caves.
I knelt down again, and Grimsby hopped off my shoulders.
Gwynn grabbed one of his hands, yanking it closer to take a look. “The thorn didn’t break your skin, did it? We don’t need you taking a power nap on us.”
“No biggie,” said Grimsby, pulling his hand away. “I’m fine.” He held up the glowing flower triumphantly in his other hand. Its petals were thin and transparent, almost like they were made of crystal. Each petal glowed from some internal light source.
“I wonder how it glows like that,” I said.
“Powerful and ancient magic, clearly,” said Grimsby.
This earned an eye roll from Gwynn. “Not quite, genius. It’s called phosphorescence. There are organisms that live in the darkest parts of the ocean that glow the same way.”
“Fascinating,” said Grimsby as he tucked the flower safely into the inside pocket of his blazer. “But I’m sticking with magic.”
“What’s wrong?” said Gwynn, noticing my frown.
I held up the cover of the journal, which I’d had in my backpack since leaving the medical wing. “The last rune. It hasn’t changed yet.”
She looked around the room uncertainly. “But we found the svefnthorn. What could we be missing?”
“Yeah,” said Grimsby. “Right after we blew up the sea monster, the first rune changed color. And then after we talked to Iggy, the second rune turned green. Now we found this death rune and got a flower from the svefnthorn. What gives?”
A shiver of foreboding crawled up my spine. “Unless … the last rune wasn’t
leading us to the svefnthorn, exactly. It is the symbol for death, after all.”
Grimsby swallowed nervously. “Oh man, I was really hoping it was a metaphor. You know, like going underground is like dying or something?”
“That would be a simile,” Gwynn said.
He shot her a look. “Really? Does it—”
“Whatever it is,” I interrupted, shoving the journal back into my bag, “I don’t really care right now. We have the flower we need to cure my dad. Let’s get out of here.”
“One small problem,” Gwynn said.
Grimsby threw up his hands in exasperation. “What now?”
She pointed back the way we’d come in. “We can’t go back up that way. The walls are too steep.”
“Oh,” he said, looking around the cavern. “Then there must be some other way out. But we should get going. This place really gives me the … cheese?”
“Um, I think the word you’re looking for is ‘creeps’?” I said helpfully.
“Shhh! I smell …” He paused and sniffed the air.
“Why do we need to be quiet for you to smell something?” I said.
He ignored this. “Yeah, I think I smell … grilled cheese.” He sniffed again. “Cheddar, if I’m not mistaken.” He pointed. “And I’m pretty sure it’s coming from that direction.”
“He must be delirious,” Gywnn said to me. “Maybe one of those thorns stabbed him in the head.”
“I guess we don’t really have any choice anyway,” I said, anxious to get back to my dad as quickly as possible. I couldn’t believe we’d run into yet another obstacle when we were at last so close to saving him. “Okay, let’s follow your nose.”
We followed Grimsby across the chamber, the glowing flowers overhead helping us pick our way through the dark as we discovered a side tunnel. This new tunnel connected to another series of chambers connected by even more tunnels. As we walked forward, peering down long passageways ending in blackness and relying on Grimsby’s nose to guess at each turn which way to go, I began to feel the panicky claustrophobia of being trapped underground. I started to imagine I could hear raspy hisses and scurrying noises down several of the side tunnels, and at one point even thought I saw a pair of glowing eyes peering out at us. But when I blinked, they were gone.
“Guys, do we have any idea where we are?” I said, glancing around nervously after wandering for what felt like hours. Where Grimsby smelled grilled cheese, all I smelled was stale air that reminded me of dead, rotting things. Even worse than the feeling of the walls closing in on me was the constricting feeling of running out of time to get the cure to my dad. If we didn’t find our way out of this maze quickly, it could be too late.
Gwynn reached out and let her fingertips trail along a rock wall beside us as we passed. “I remember hearing once about the original tunnels the Vikings built when they first arrived here. Something about the limestone being too unstable, so they abandoned them in favor of the current location. Maybe that’s why the original Vale campus was moved too.”
“Oh, great. Thanks,” I said. “So now I’m worried not only about what might be lurking down any of these dark tunnels, but also about being crushed to death under a million pounds of rock.”
“Sorry, I’m sure—” she started.
“I think I see a light up ahead,” Grimsby cut in. “We muz be getting close.”
I frowned at the slight slur in his words. “Are you—”
“Shhhh!” Gwynn hissed. “What was that? It sounded like a bat screeching, or …”
We all froze and listened. I could hear a far-off drip-drip of water but otherwise silence.
“Should we try to go back?” I whispered.
“Go back where?” Gwynn said, staring at the twisting maze behind us. She had a point. Either we could turn around and maybe get lost in the tunnels and never be found again. Or we could go forward into … what?
“I vo we go forard,” said Grimsby, now clearly slurring his words.
Gwynn looked at him with concern. “I think you may have pricked yourself more than you thought.”
“’mokay,” he protested, one eye lazily drifting shut. He suddenly stumbled and fell sideways into me.
I caught him under the arms and met Gwynn’s gaze over his head, our eyes registering our alarm at the rapid turn he’d taken. “We have to get him out of here,” I said. “I guess forward it is.” I slung one of his arms over my shoulder and helped steady him as we crept quietly toward the light.
Gwynn quickly poked her head around the corner and waved us forward. “Looks like the coast is clear.”
If we’d had any doubt about anyone else being down here, the next cavern cleared it up for us. Candles of all shapes and sizes guttered and dripped in several nooks and crannies all around the large space. Growing from what seemed like every other surface were exotic-looking plants of all types. Thick vines trailed up natural limestone columns that supported the ceiling above at several points, allowing this chamber to be larger than the ones we’d seen previously.
“I think we just figured out where the greenhouse went to,” I said.
Gwynn pointed a shaky finger toward the center of the room. “I don’t suppose the botanist’s journal mentions, um, having a pet?”
I followed her gaze. There amid the foliage was what looked like a giant nest constructed of piles of loose straw, torn clothing, and other miscellaneous trash. Whatever had made it wasn’t something I wanted to meet. Near the center of the pile lay the crusts of what looked like a grilled cheese sandwich. So Grimsby’s nose had been right.
“’spretty,” Grimsby slurred. When I turned toward him, he was staring at the svefnthorn bloom in his open palm. It sparkled and seemed to capture the candlelight. “I’mma just be overhere.” He stumbled farther into the cave.
“I really don’t have a good feeling about this,” I said. “We need to find a way out of here. Now.”
Gwynn nodded. “I’m with you. Why don’t you check that direction and I’ll look over here?”
I walked toward a raised alcove where a small object lay next to a sputtering candle. All at once, I recognized what it was. I ran forward and clutched it with both hands, lifting it up into the light. My mom’s missing journal. But what was it doing here?
Before I could examine it more closely, Gwynn called from across the room. “Abby, I think you’d better come check this out.”
“What is it?” I said, walking over to join her.
She stood staring up at a wall covered with old movie posters: Swamp Thing. Creature from the Black Lagoon. Return of Swamp Thing. “Wow, so … whoever uses this place really likes old horror movies? That seems sort of weird.”
“Yeah,” she said, turning toward me with a worried look on her face. “And what do all these remind you of?”
I stared at the posters. I didn’t get what she was … Ohhh.
“Wasn’t the Grendel creature in Beowulf described as a sort of swamp creature?” Gwynn said.
I didn’t answer right away because the room abruptly seemed to be tilting. I reached out and put my hand on the wall to steady myself. When I looked up, Gwynn’s wide eyes must have matched mine. It was the first time I’d ever seen her look genuinely scared.
I stared back at the nest, then at the posters again. “But it’s not … It’s … you know … dead.” Even as I said it, I knew I was only desperately trying to convince myself. It wasn’t working.
Mr. Lodbrok’s voice echoed in my mind: There is absolutely nothing that you—or any of us—can do to stop it. Maybe that’s why he was so adamantly opposed to the idea of a Grendel’s continued existence. What better way to keep it hidden than to pretend it didn’t exist?
Nearby a shift in the chamber’s roof sent a small shower of dust to the floor, bringing me back to the stark reality of our situation. I could figure out the Mr. Lodbrok thing later. Right now we had weightier issues. As in a million pounds of rock hanging precariously above our heads.
“Okay,
” I said. “We need to get out of here before this whole place collapses. And before whatever made that nest comes back.”
Gwynn frowned and pointed at my chest. “Are you, uh, glowing?”
I looked down and saw a faint glow beneath my shirt and realized it was my runestone. I dragged it out, and my knees nearly buckled when I saw the symbol etched into the surface glowing an angry red. The upside-down Algiz rune. “Oh no. This happened last time …”
Gwynn met my gaze. “Last time?” But then she froze, her head cocked to one side. “There it is again.”
“There what is?”
“That strange squeaking noise. Is it rats or something?”
Then I heard it too. A squeaking noise. It seemed to be coming toward us. Suddenly I recognized it. And it wasn’t rats.
Then a familiar figure entered the room the way we’d just come in. He was pushing a garbage can and mop pail.
“Hello, Abby.”
The school janitor. I realized it was the first time I’d heard him speak. All hoarse and raspy. Like he’d been smoking for a thousand years. In a word: creeptastic.
“Hi, uh, sir,” I said. I was seriously confused, not sure what to make of him appearing out of nowhere in this underground maze.
The janitor coughed a pair of deep, phlegmy coughs, then looked at me again. A large rat crawled out of his trash can. He didn’t flinch when it climbed up his arm and perched on his shoulder. He reached out and gave it a small stroke with his finger. Okay, so he had a pet rat. That was normal, right?
“I suppose you wonder what I’m doing here?” he said.
“Well, yeah, to be honest, the thought crossed my mind.”
He laughed at this, then doubled over in a coughing fit before finally straightening and continuing. “I’ve been observing you for a long time, Abby. For many years, in fact. Watching as you’ve grown up, though I admit I lost track of you for several years. Which is why I’m so glad we’ve recently been able to become … reacquainted.”
He’d been watching me … for years? Okay, if I’d thought I was creeped out already, then now I really was. “What are you talking about?”
