Last Shadow Warrior
Page 24
I nodded. “Everything I told them. It all happened just like I said. You … believe me. Don’t you?”
Some of the mischievous look from earlier still lingered in his eyes. “It’s unfortunately not a matter of whether I believe you or not. There is a bigger picture that you’re not aware of.”
“What you said earlier in the hospital about the times you fear may be coming? Is that what you mean?”
He nodded. “Indeed. I feel something building. Events in motion that we don’t understand yet. Almost daily the Vikings are alerted to new threats around the world. Supposed sightings of monstrous creatures that the world hasn’t seen for centuries.”
“Like sea monsters in the school pool?”
Doc shot me a sidelong look. “Abby, many feel that the idea of a Grendel living at Vale is simply preposterous. The truth is, we don’t know what’s going on, but it feels like we’re under siege. And chasing after a supposed Grendel right here at our school is seen as an unnecessary distraction at present.”
I stamped my foot in frustration. “But didn’t you say Grendels basically run the show? Can’t the others see that’s what must be behind all of this?”
“Yes, but why now? Why after all this time? And why here at Vale?”
I cupped my hands over my mouth and blew into them as I considered. I couldn’t answer any of these questions. Then, shivering from an internal chill deeper than the cold around us, I jerked my head toward him. “What Professor Roth said. About the janitor being away visiting relatives? Is that … ?”
Doc turned his head back toward the closed doors of Vale before replying. “That’s the official story. But the truth is, he seems to have disappeared.”
“So he’s”—I could hardly bring myself to say it—“still alive?”
“All we know is there was no body found when the collapsed caverns were excavated.”
I was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. “But if he’s … I mean, the only weapon we had that was any use at all against a Grendel is gone. That means if he’s still alive, we’re defenseless, right?”
He looked at me closely. “Not entirely, no.”
Feeling strangely self-conscious, I said, “Why? What do you mean?”
“Abby, you remember the story of Beowulf’s fight with the Grendel, don’t you?”
“Sure,” I said. “Why?”
“What weapon did he use to defeat it?”
I thought for a few seconds. “I guess he didn’t use any weapon. He, well, tore off the Grendel’s arm with his bare hands.”
“Exactly. Beowulf’s sheer strength allowed him to do what no weapon had been able to do up to that point.”
“Okaaayyy …” I said. “But the only person with that kind of strength would be an Aesir. And Aunt Jess is the only one left. So it’s all up to her?”
“Maybe not … the only one.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
Frowning, he extracted a small wooden ball from his pocket and held it up. “Abby, not long ago I witnessed you put this knattleikr ball through a five-inch-thick glass wall. I’ve never seen raw power like that in all my years of coaching. Added to that, you’ve foiled a dark Valkyrie, killed a sea monster, and defeated a Grendel—our most dangerous and ancient of enemies. It’s hard not to be impressed by how you’ve accomplished in such a short time what even a seasoned warrior can rarely claim to do in a lifetime.”
I blinked. “So … you’re saying you think I really am an Aesir after all?”
He handed the ball to me. “I’m saying, don’t give up hope. Not yet.” And then he turned to walk away.
“Wait. So what am I supposed to do now?”
Without looking back, he said, “What the Vikings have always done. Hope for the best, but prepare for battle.”
I watched his back as he walked away, disappearing through the same door we’d recently exited. Vale Hall loomed large and black against the late-afternoon sun, giving me the feeling that I’d only started to explore the secrets within its walls. Then I looked down at the knattleikr ball shining dully in my hand, wishing it was a crystal ball that could tell me the future. It was silent. But at least I knew that whatever the future held, I had my dad, my aunt, and new friends to help me find the answers.
More than a thousand years before Spider-Man or the Avengers appeared in comic books and on movie screens, the great storytellers of old spun tales of Beowulf—the mighty champion of the north whose feats thrilled adults and kids alike, just as our modern superheroes do today. I fell in love with the epic of Beowulf when I first encountered it in college, but it wasn’t until years later that the idea of adapting the poem into a more accessible, modern story for today’s readers began to form. Finally, after many starts and stops, my story of the fierce young warrior Abby Beckett began to take shape. Readers of the original Beowulf will, I hope, note more than a few similarities, from my use of a Grendel as the villain of the story to the hero’s battle with a sea monster (though my sea monster’s wicked Ping-Pong skills were entirely my invention).
Though my name is on the cover, there are innumerable heroes who, like the anonymous author of Beowulf, might never receive due credit for their efforts, ideas, and encouragement in the creation of this book, but I would like to highlight some of those people here:
First, my agent, Maura Kye-Casella, who saw something in an early draft that convinced her to take a chance on a debut author. Without her excellent feedback on the book and guidance in navigating the children’s publishing market, Abby’s story may never have seen the light of day. I still recall the first time we spoke over the phone on a December day barely a week before Christmas, when she said about the manuscript, “I think this could be something really great,” and, like that, I started to believe it myself.
Of course, a huge thank-you to my editor, Mallory Kass, whose enthusiasm for the story from the start was infectious. Your incredible insights into storytelling, relentless encouragement to push my book to the next level, and, I’m sure, countless hours of reading and rereading each draft and manuscript note down to the proper usage of the umlaut in Mjölnir have been invaluable in making the story what it is today.
Likewise, to the incredible team at Scholastic who made this book possible, including Baily Crawford, Josh Berlowitz, Melissa Schirmer, and Maya Marlette.
It’s said that no man is an island, and this axiom certainly holds true for writers. I’ve found that it’s impossible to write well without the regular support and feedback of other writers and readers. So I would be remiss not to thank the many critique partners and beta readers who helped shape this book: Eric Boyd, Angie Chan, Neal Chase, Trisha Clifford, Justin Colon, Deborah Drick, Liz Edelbrock, Andrew Edwards, Jen Jobart, Brad Johnson, Michael Lunsford, Margaret Mason, Joyce Masongsong-Ray, C. Lee McKenzie, Kate O’Shaughnessy, S. B. Porter, L. N. Russell, Melanie Savransky, Shari Schwarz, Shane Souther, Mike Wheeler, and Stephenie Wilson-Peterson.
A special thanks to the students and teachers of the fifth-, sixth-, and seventh-grade classes at San Jose Christian School. Your feedback that my original story was “almost as good as Harry Potter” was super encouraging and helped me to keep writing and aspiring to achieve something worthy of the famous bespectacled wizard.
Mary Riley played an important role with her copious detailed sticky notes and insights throughout my early manuscript. And Beth Costa provided critical guidance regarding the workings of hospitals and the medical world in general.
Mom and Dad, you always surrounded me with books and love from an early age and supported my creative endeavors in whatever form they took, even if my earliest writing mediums were occasionally bedroom walls or my brothers. You were the models for the positive parent-child relationships that I tried to portray in this book and the inspiration for more than a few scenes throughout.
To my kids, who cheered me on the whole time, even when writing sometimes meant I had to miss out on playing Super Smash Bros. or throwing a Frisbee with you.
I love that you regularly tell me that I’m the best writer in the world. You guys are seriously the best kids in the world. I hope my getting my book published shows you that you can accomplish your dreams too—even the big, scary ones.
And finally to my own Viking queen, my wife, Rebecca: You were a constant support through the entire process of writing this book, never failing to give me the time or space I needed to wrestle with a tough scene, be a sounding board for ideas, or quietly swoop in with a plate of snickerdoodles while I was writing and just as silently spirit away. This book would not have been possible without you. I love you with all my heart.
Sam Subity loves writing stories that explore the magic and wonder of being a kid and is thrilled to share his debut novel with readers everywhere—both the young in age and the young at heart. When he’s not writing, you might find him running the trails of Northern California, where the endless, winding miles past fog and ocean inspire stories of adventure and mystery. Or he might be mowing his lawn. Because that’s what adults sometimes have to do. But in either case, he’s very likely imagining himself fighting mythical creatures or at the prow of a Viking dragon ship, feeling the wind and sea spray on his face. His greatest hope is that in reading this book, you too were in some small way transported to another place where for a little while you could exchange the ordinary for the extraordinary.
Copyright © 2021 by Sam Subity
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available
First edition, May 2021
Cover art © 2021 by Jael Bendt
Cover design by Baily Crawford
Author photo by Ken Fong
e-ISBN 978-1-338-63609-3
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