“So, Freya, has your family always had, you know…” he began.
“BO problems?” interrupted Hayley.
“Troll’s blood?” said Alfie rapidly.
“Yes, ever since ancient times,” replied Freya. “Our land was once ruled by pure trolls, a noble, intelligent race. But when the first Ice Age thawed and foreign invaders arrived, they were afraid of them and, in a great war, drove them to the edge of extinction. My family were the trolls’ only allies and soon our two tribes became one. We drove out the invaders and ruled in peace ever since. I got my troll powers when I was thirteen, so I had a little time to adjust before I took the throne.”
Alfie pointed at the sparking green necklace that Freya always wore. “And is that part of your powers?”
Freya smiled, caressing the jewel. “It is much more than that. It is called Brísingamen, forged from two rocks. One is an emerald – my human ancestors’ greatest treasure. The other is Troll’s Ice – the same for the troll side of my family. When I took the throne, I bonded with it for life. It will only be removed from my body when I die.”
Tony was watching her, doe-eyed. “Wow, we have so much in common it’s not even funny,” he said.
Freya looked at him askance. “You have troll’s blood?”
“Well, no, not that exactly,” said Tony. “But my ancestors were way into all that nature conservation stuff too. The legend goes that thousands of years ago my homeland was ruled by an evil and greedy king who starved his own people. So one day my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great—”
“We get the idea, Tony,” said Alfie.
“All right, well, lots-of-greats grandmother, who was still a young girl, was hunting in the forest to feed her orphaned brothers and sisters when she accidentally shot the last Qilin – the Chinese Unicorn – through the heart with an arrow. The young girl cradled the magical creature as it lay dying and wept tears of regret. The gods of the forest were so touched by her grief that they transferred the Qilin’s powers into her. She used them to get rid of the unjust king and took his place. Her descendants inherited her powers, all the way down to little old me.”
“Good story, Tony,” said Alfie.
“Sounds a little implausible if you ask me,” quipped Freya.
“Says Miss Half-Troll,” said Hayley.
As they laughed, Alfie noticed that Ellie was wandering around the abbey. He caught up with her near the altar as she gazed at the old stained-glass windows.
“How’s it going, sis?”
“Oh, you know, pretty typical day. Found out that my loser big brother isn’t dead like I thought and is actually a superhero and so are all his mates. Oh, and I forgot to mention, turns out my other brother is an evil monster who wants to destroy the world. So yeah, everything’s just fine.” Tears welled in Ellie’s eyes. She looked at Alfie with such a look of desperation that he hugged her and, amazingly, she didn’t even try to wriggle away.
“This feels really weird to say, but thanks for rescuing me from the Tower,” she said, then seemed to remember something else. “Oh yeah, and from the Dragon at the coronation, and when I fell off the bridge before that. I think I need to sit down.”
Alfie sat her down on a step.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about all this before. You wouldn’t believe all the rules LC makes me follow,” said Alfie.
“Yeah, I would,” she said, then pointed at the regalia case, which sat open nearby. “How does all this stuff work, then?”
“It’s complicated. Ancient blue blood, a mystical crown from the gods…”
“So magic, basically.”
“Basically, yeah.”
“So, do I have this magic in me, then?”
“Yep, afraid so. Although it follows the line of succession so it would only activate if Richard and me weren’t around.”
Ellie shook her head and laughed. “This is nuts.”
Their mother came over to join them. “Are we having a family meeting?” she asked.
“It’s a little overdue, wouldn’t you say?” said Ellie. “Just let me ask the questions and don’t stop answering unless I look like I’m going to faint again, yeah?”
And with that Ellie was off, like a determined detective on the trail of the answer to a long-buried mystery. The secret, magical history of the monarchy. The faked divorce between King Henry and Tamara. The disagreement with LC. What they knew about Lock and his diabolical plans. Alfie thought Ellie took it all in pretty well. Bit by bit, he could see her hostility to her mum ebbing away and, by the end, her main issue was that she was kept in the dark for so long.
“It’s just so typical; I’m the youngest so I’m the last to know.”
“I’m sorry, Ellie. Really,” Tamara said. “If I could go back, I’d do things differently.”
“Why don’t we make a promise?” said Ellie. “From now on there’s no more secrets between us.” She offered her hand to shake.
“Sorry, I’m more of hugger,” Tamara said.
“Take it or leave it,” Ellie said. “We’ll see about a hug later.” Alfie smiled at his sister’s no-nonsense way of dealing with the world.
“Just like your father. All right, have it your way.” Tamara laughed, conceding defeat. She took Ellie’s hand. “No more secrets.”
“Do you think there’s any hope?” Ellie said as she looked at a stained-glass window above them. In it, Saint George, depicted as a knight in armour, fought a green dragon that had wrapped its tail around his white horse, trying to drag it down. “For Rich, I mean?”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” Alfie said. “But I’ll try everything I can, I promise.”
“Chief? Think you’d better see this,” Brian called from the far end of the abbey, waving his mobile phone. “I was just checking that the shipping forecast was still playing when this came on. We’re not the only ones broadcasting something.”
Alfie watched the phone as Hayley and the others peered over his shoulder. The screen was broadcasting images of Lock standing on some kind of wooden platform and addressing the camera.
“People of Britain. This is your Lord Protector Cameron Lock speaking to you from Marble Arch in London.”
The camera panned around to show the silent, snow-shrouded city and the white stone of the famous London landmark.
“It has recently come to my attention that the so-called ‘Defender’ is once again at large. Rest assured, this trouble-making criminal and his gang will be found and punished.”
“Cool! We’re gangsters!” Tony said. Everybody shushed him as Lock went on.
“Once, they called this place I am standing on the Tyburn Tree. It is high time we raised it again to show how we deal with traitors. Anyone giving help or shelter to the Defender will pay the ultimate price.”
The camera angle suddenly widened to show a heavy wooden arch above Lock’s head.
“It’s a gibbet,” LC said darkly.
Alfie was just about to ask what that was when a rope, tied in a hangman’s noose, dropped down next to Lock. Everyone gasped.
“Bring the prisoner forward!” Lock ordered.
Two hulking great undead Vikings climbed the scaffold, dragging a Yeoman Warder in a tatty uniform with them. As they heaved him to his feet, he turned to face the camera and they could see the wizened, scruffy features of the Yeoman Jailor.
“It’s Sid!” gasped Ellie. “He helped me escape.”
Sid the Jailer stared defiantly at his captors as they looped the noose over his head.
“They’re going to kill him! Alfie, do something!” begged Ellie.
Alfie grabbed the Shroud Tunic from the regalia case and put it on, transforming into the Defender. “Spurs!” Alfie yelled. Wyvern appeared in an instant and reared up, ready for action.
“No, Majesty! You can’t go!” LC ordered. He was waving his hands in the air like a man flagging down a taxi. “Lock is trying to draw you into a trap!”
“They’re going to
hang the poor guy!” Alfie protested. Wyvern stamped on the floor of the abbey as if agreeing with her master.
LC took the phone from Brian and turned it off. “Yes, sir. They will, and for that I am deeply sorry. But if you go now like this, in anger, without a plan, all you are doing is endangering the lives of millions more.”
Alfie steadied Wyvern and recalled her into his spurs. He kicked the wall in anger, then took off his armour and flung the Shroud Tunic back into the regalia case. “I should never have come home,” he said.
“I thought the same at first,” said LC. “That your presence would play into Lock’s hands. But perhaps I was wrong. Your return has also started something else. Defiance. Rebellion. Hope.”
The others looked to the floor. Tamara hugged Ellie as she wept.
“We can’t just let him get away with it,” said Alfie quietly.
“Oh, we won’t, Majesty. But joining battle before we are at our strongest, before we are truly ready? That’s not courage. That’s foolishness. If history tells us anything, it is that fighting evil comes at a price. The Yeoman Jailor knew that, and he made his choice. More will do the same before this is over.”
“Is it worth it?” asked Ellie, drying her tears.
“That depends on all of you. Monarch, soldier or ‘commoner’. It’s not your title, nor your powers that make you a hero. It’s what you do when all seems lost and the night is at its darkest.”
Lock’s angry yelling could be heard echoing through every corner of the Keep. The Viking Lord standing before him might have been capable of snapping his neck like a toothpick, but that didn’t seem to worry the ex-teacher as he scolded Guthrum like he was a naughty schoolboy.
“You and your incompetent friends have let the Defender slip through your fingers AGAIN! How you ever terrorized half the known world is beyond me. You can’t even capture a teenaged boy when you have his address!”
“Gáðit at orðin ykkr hin næstuna, Engilsmenn,”* snarled Guthrum, pointing a mighty finger at Lock’s red face.
“I’ll say whatever I like! I dug you up and I won’t hesitate to bury you again – one Norse spell and you’ll crumble to dust!”
Guthrum didn’t know if Lock really had a spell that could do that, but he had enough brains left not to risk finding out the hard way.
“Sveinkonung þinn skulum vér finna. Þá endask með oss. Nú er mér nog boðit að heyra boðinum þinum.”*
Guthrum raised his axe and with a roar stamped out of the hall.
Richard shuffled out of the shadows. He was deathly pale and sweating, pulling a blanket tight around his shivering body. Black ridges pushed through his scalp beneath his thinning hair and his teeth seemed to be pointed rather than square.
“Do you think they’ll find Alfie?” he rasped. “He didn’t like the way you spoke to him.”
Lock waved a dismissive hand and pulled the velvet cloth from the scrying mirror which stood nearby, polishing its frame with it.
“What do you know about Vikings? The only thing they respect is strength.”
“Yes, but if they don’t catch him soon… I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” said Richard, coming closer and turning Lock to face him. “Look at me.”
“Get your hands off me,” snapped Lock. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here, boy.”
“Who, you?” scoffed Richard. “I thought she was.” He nodded to the mirror.
Lock grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. “You ungrateful brat! After everything I’ve done for you!”
“What you’ve done for me?!” yelled Richard, eyes flashing scarlet.
He lashed out, throwing Lock to the floor. Scales erupted over Richard’s skin and, in an instant, he had transformed into the Black Dragon. Wings burst from his back, sending the broken halves of the ops table spinning into the wall. Flames licked round his jaws as he spat his words at Lock. “YOU’VE CURSED ME! I SHOULD BURN YOU FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”
The Dragon’s throat glowed deep orange as flames crackled inside.
“Your anger serves you well.” The words swam through the Dragon’s skull. The voice from the mirror was talking to him again, accompanied by the constant drone of flies.
Hel’s face appeared from the black soup of the mirror’s surface, this time both halves: the living and the long dead. The Dragon recoiled at the sight.
“Can’t you look at me, young prince?” Hel asked. “I wasn’t always like this. But it is so much better to be powerful and a monster than beautiful and weak, don’t you agree? This world was never meant for mortal men,” she went on, her words slithering into the Dragon’s ears and coiling round his brain like a snake. “Once I have risen, we shall return it to the way it was before they infested it. And you will reign by my side. That is, if you still have the stomach to be a king.”
The Black Dragon looked up at her, eyes burning red.
“I am with you,” he said.
Lock stepped forward, wringing his hands nervously.
“There has been a slight delay, but the rebel king will be captured soon enough,” he said.
Hel’s terrible eyes flicked to Lock, scowling with menace. “I am growing impatient with your promises,” she hissed. “Without king’s blood given freely, we cannot complete the ritual. If you cannot bring about my return, Professor, I will find someone else who can. Theirs will be the glory and the reward, not yours.”
“It will be done, my mistress,” said Lock with a bow.
Hel’s image faded from the mirror and Lock covered it with the cloth. Agitated, he paced up and down.
“We cannot leave the hunt for Alfie to the Vikings alone,” he muttered. “I have a feeling this time he hasn’t gone far. England is riddled with bolt-holes used by your family over the centuries.”
Lock strode over to the large hatch in the floor, beneath which lay the Archives – the cavern of scrolls holding the secret true history of Britain.
“What are you doing?” asked the Dragon.
“What I do best – uncovering the secrets of the past!”
He heaved open the hatch and no sooner had the stale air rushed out into the Keep than a berserker came screaming at him out of the darkness. It was Yeoman Brenda Box, who had been trapped in the Archives ever since Hayley had booted her down there just before the Vikings took the Keep. The Black Dragon grabbed her by the leg before she could reach Lock and lifted the shrieking maniac off her feet.
“Get lost,” the Dragon growled into the berserker’s crazed face, hurling her across the hall. He turned back to see Lock already climbing down into the Archives and slinging scrolls out. “And what do we do once we’ve found their hideout?”
“We smoke them out,” said Lock.
Brian lifted the powerful binoculars to his eyes and scanned the windows of the Palace of Westminster once more. He had found his way into the abandoned Treasury building on the far side of the square several hours earlier. Being careful not to make any noise or allow himself to be spotted from outside, he had positioned himself at a high window and begun his surveillance. The gothic spires of the Houses of Parliament were dusted white, like an ornament inside a snow globe waiting to be picked up and shaken. Brian was no sun worshipper – his army years in the Middle East had provided him quite enough baking heat for a lifetime. But now he missed the warmth of the sun on his skin, the same way he missed a lot of other things about his life before… He shook his head and focused on the job in hand. He’d counted Viking draugar in and out of St Stephen’s Porch, the main entrance to Parliament, all day and thought he was starting to get a handle on their routine. It was dark now and the streets were quiet. A squad of six draugar came stomping out of the entrance, grunting and muttering at each other, and disappeared into the mist. Brian lifted his radio from his belt.
“The day shift just left. Estimate nine to twelve of them left inside. Hard to be sure, but recommend you deploy now.”
High above the Houses of Parliament, Wyvern hovered in the cove
r of the cloud bank. Alfie heard Brian’s transmission inside his Defender helmet.
“Got it, thanks. See you later,” he replied.
He turned his head to Freya, who was sitting behind him, and Tony who was behind her, his arms round her waist, a cheesy grin plastered across his face.
“Time to get your property back, Your Majesty,” said Alfie.
“Good,” said Freya. “Another minute and I would have yanked your friend’s arms out of their sockets.”
“Like I said before,” said Tony cheerfully, “it’s purely a matter of horseback safety. I don’t like it any more than you do.”
Alfie smiled to himself. “Well, hang on, this is going to be quick,” he said.
The Defender gripped the reins and kicked his heels, sending Wyvern into a steep dive. They plummeted from the clouds and a second later landed on the roof of the Houses of Parliament. Freya shook off Tony’s arms and jumped down. Alfie recalled Wyvern into his spurs and together they edged their way along the slippery tiles until they reached the right spot.
“Ready?” asked Alfie.
Tony activated his Qilin outfit “Steady!” he said.
Freya’s necklace glowed green and muscles sprouted all over her body as she transformed into Holgatroll. “I’m not going to say GO, if that’s what you’re waiting for,” she said.
“You totally did just say it though,” sniggered Tony.
With a growl of irritation, Holgatroll leapt thirty feet straight up into the air. As she started to fall back down again, the Defender and Qilin looked at each other and then tried to jump out of the way.
CRASH!
Holgatroll smashed down through the skylight in a shower of glass, tiles and plaster and landed at one end of the Commons chamber. The Defender and Qilin tumbled after her, Alfie summoning Wyvern just in time to fly above the benches and Tony spinning upright into a hover just above the floor. The three invaders braced themselves for the Viking onslaught.
But there was no one there.
“What’s your status?” It was Brian, over Alfie’s radio.
“Er, better than expected, actually. No one’s home,” replied Alfie.
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