by E. G. Foley
“Maybe I will!” Jake snatched them out of his hand, put them on, then turned to look at the man—and was taken aback by what he saw.
When viewed through the goggles, the ‘prince’ had strangely elongated ears.
His pointy ears were somewhat hidden by his long, stringy hair, but when he turned his head, Jake could clearly make out the tattoo on the stranger’s face.
A dark, intricate swirl of Norse-style knots crossed his cheek and curled up around his left eye like black war-paint.
How had he missed seeing it before? But then he realized: Only the Lie Detector Goggles revealed it.
Baffled, Jake lowered them from his eyes. Lo and behold, the tattoo vanished from the stranger’s face.
He peered through them a second time in case his eyes had tricked him, but there it was again. Indeed, a closer look at the tattoo revealed that it did not depict a knotted rope, after all.
It was a tattoo of a serpent.
Jake felt a chill go down his spine at this revelation, but in the next moment, he forgot all about the tattoo, for the madman had just stepped up behind the newly-invented Gatling gun. “Hey-ho, what have we here?”
The multi-barreled weapon was mounted on a two-wheeled gun carriage, like a cannon.
The sign said it could fire over a thousand rounds a minute.
“Hello, gorgeous,” the ‘prince’ murmured heartily as he stepped up behind it and figured out how to load the whole box of bullets. “I must admit, every once in a while, you humans do come up with something fun…”
Not good, Jake thought. Rapid-fire weapon in the hands of a loon-bat. Not good at all.
Heart pounding, he set the goggles back on their table and walked slowly, calmly, bravely toward the crazy person. “Um, Your Highness, I don’t think you really ought to fool with that.”
“Why ever not, Cake?” he asked innocently. “Look what it can do. Angle up, angle down. You can swivel it round from side to side, kill everyone in sight. Lovely! All you have to do to fire is turn this crank…”
“You can’t be touching that!”
“Oh, yes I can.”
“It’s dangerous! Look what it says here.” Jake pointed to the sign ominously claiming that Doctor Gatling’s intent had been to invent a weapon so invincible that it would make all warfare obsolete.
“Pah! They always say that,” the mad prince scoffed. “What rubbish! It’s just an excuse. War is in our bones, Cake. They’ll never get rid of it. And they’ll never get rid of me.”
Then he started firing.
Jake clapped his hands over his ears and instinctively ducked his head. Thankfully, the loon-bat aimed the Gatling gun into the shooting gallery set up for weapons tests.
Even with his ears plugged, the bullets sounded to Jake like the loudest popcorn bursting.
Laughing maniacally, the stranger went on cranking and cranking the handle, gleefully unloading. In seconds, empty brass cartridges littered the floor. The Gatling gun roared on, shredding the thick practice target.
Jake knew he had to do something to stop him.
All that madman had to do was swivel the gun in another direction, and people in the Exhibit Hall would be mowed down.
Jake knew the danger of using his powers in front of the public, let along the scientists, but what choice did he have?
Still holding his ears as the giant machine gun thundered on and on, he let go of his right ear in order to put out his hand.
He summoned up all his concentration, then used his telekinesis to make the cranking mechanism jam.
The Gatling gun abruptly went mute.
The mad prince stopped, making a small sound of disappointment. He shook the weapon. “Piece of junk!”
Jake had already straightened up and was striding toward him, relieved that the stranger hadn’t seen him use his hereditary gift.
“It obviously needs more work,” the mad prince said in disgust. “I’ve always said the dwarves make much better weapons than these humans.” He started to walk away—only to stop mid-stride.
Jake was still trying to absorb the dwarf remark when the loon-bat held up his hand and froze, as though hearing something in the distance. Then he sniffed the air.
Jake squinted at him in confusion. What now?
“Do you smell that, Cake?”
“All I smell is gunpowder,” he answered in reproach, his ears still ringing from the din.
“Shh! Quiet! Listen!”
Jake could have sworn that the man’s long, tapered ears twitched.
Then the prince started to laugh—slowly, even more wickedly than before. “It can’t be…”
He shook his head with a look of surprise, listening to whatever it was he thought he heard. “I don’t believe it!” he murmured to himself.
“Believe what?” Jake demanded.
“Tsk, tsk. Somebody’s broken the rules. Oh, I love that!”
“Who?”
“Fee, fi, fo, fum… I smell the blood of… but it can’t be. That’s not allowed, not at all,” he whispered gleefully to himself, staring toward the Exhibit Hall doors.
“What are you talking about?” Jake asked in exasperation. But the nonsensical syllables the loon-bat had just uttered sounded familiar. Where had he heard them before?
He suddenly remembered. Of course. The old fairytale, Jack and the Beanstalk. The orphanage ladies used it to read it to the children.
The mad prince had now forgotten all about him. “I must investigate!” He whirled away abruptly with a flap of his black cloak like a crow’s wings.
With the midnight fabric of his cloak streaming out behind him, he rushed out of the Exhibit Hall without another word.
Jake stared after him, confused. Absolutely bloomin’ bonkers.
Wondering if he should call for campus security, he had barely had a chance to sigh with relief that the lunatic had gone, when he heard Henry furiously calling his name.
“Jake! Get away from that weapon, this instant! How dare you go fooling with that thing? That is not a toy!”
Jake let out a weary sigh. Here we go again. Getting the blame for something that wasn’t his fault. Typical!
“Jacob Everton, have you lost your mind?” the boys’ tutor demanded as he came marching up the aisle. “I told you not to touch any of the inventions, let alone the Gatling gun!”
“It wasn’t me!”
“Oh, really? You just happened to be standing here beside it? And where did all these casings come from?” Henry gestured toward the empty bullet shells lying all over the floor. “Did they fall out of the sky?”
“It wasn’t me shooting, it was some lunatic—honest! He was here a moment ago. Didn’t you see him?”
“No!” Henry retorted, yanking Jake away from the Gatling gun and bending to pick up all the casings.
“I’m telling the truth! Some loon-bat in an opera cloak. An investor! He claimed to be a prince.”
“Oh, please,” Henry retorted. “A prince?”
“He could be telling the truth,” Miss Langesund chimed in cautiously as she now joined them in the DEFENSE aisle. “There are a few wealthy investors wandering around here today, and some of them do have royal connections.”
“Whoever he was, he was mad as a hatter,” Jake mumbled, indignant that he should get in trouble, when he had just saved everyone there from the possibility of a loon-bat on a rampage.
Some thanks!
Henry obviously wasn’t impressed. “Look, Jake, the floor is also cracked. Did you do this, too? Were you playing with the Super Strength Gloves? Tell the truth.”
“It wasn’t me, I tell ye! Put on the Lie Detector Goggles if you don’t believe me!”
“Maybe I will!” Henry retorted.
“He’s telling the truth!” Isabelle called. She and Dani hurried over to them. Archie wasn’t far behind.
“See? I told you so,” Jake declared.
With her empathic powers, Isabelle was as good as the Lie Detector Goggles. Stil
l, Henry frowned, unsure what to believe.
“There was some crazy loon-bat running around here messin’ with all the inventions,” Jake explained, but with Miss Langesund standing there, he couldn’t admit he had used his telekinesis to stop him. “When the gun jammed, I guess he just got bored and wandered off. He’s gone now.”
“Humph,” Henry growled. “You’d better watch your step, young man. I have half a mind not to let you come and see the Langesunds’ surprise.”
“Miss Langesund was just about to take us for a private showing of the big discovery she and her father unearthed,” Dani said.
“But if this is how you’re going to behave—” Henry warned.
“Oh, come, Monsieur DuVal, it’s over now, no harm done,” Miss Langesund cajoled him. “I’m sure this can be a boring place for a spirited young lad—except for Master Archie, of course. But now I have something to show you children that you are sure to enjoy.”
Their tutor was still frowning as the bespectacled lady-archeologist beckoned to them. “Come along, children, this way! Prepare yourselves for a marvel.”
“And when we get there, don’t touch anything,” Henry added with a pointed look at Jake.
“I won’t!” he said in exasperation.
Then Miss Langesund marched ahead of them; Henry beckoned to the children. With that, they followed her outside and headed across the campus, eager to see the surprise.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brain Food
Alone in the forest, Snorri sat down to eat a lonely supper. He had trapped a twelve-point buck without much trouble, but for a giant, it was barely an appetizer.
Hungry and grumpy, he sat roasting his venison on the campfire he had made outside the mountain cave he’d chosen for his shelter. He let out a disgruntled sigh, irked at himself. Why was he not happy?
As badly as he had wanted to escape Jugenheim, here he was, far away at last. But he hadn’t even been gone twelve hours yet, and he was already feeling homesick.
He couldn’t help worrying. Who would feed his dear little sheepies, Zero, Chubs, Maxine, and all the others? Who would keep the nasty, sharp-clawed wolverines away from his chicken coop?
And what if Princess Kaia stopped by for a visit, needing to talk to a friend? Who could she confide in if he wasn’t there?
Worst of all, Snorri barely dared wonder what his punishment might be if the gods found out he had crashed down into man-world. What if Thor heard about it and came and bopped him with his hammer?
Still worrying and fretting to himself, Snorri prodded his campfire with a mighty pine branch, when all of a sudden, a crow flapped down onto the log across from him and said, “Hello!”
Snorri was taken aback. “Did you just talk?”
“Of course I did. I was talking to you!”
“Uh, hello.” He blinked in confusion. “Sorry, no offense. I just didn’t know birds could talk—” down here in Midgarth, he had almost added aloud. But fortunately, he had remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be here, so he kept quiet.
“Well, we can,” the crow replied, giving its wings a small flick like a shrug. “We just don’t often choose to. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
It was Snorri’s turn to shrug. Might as well enjoy some company, since he had no one else to talk to in this strange place. “All right.”
“I was noticing from my perch on the treetops just a moment ago that you seem out of sorts, and it’s just, well, you’re awfully large. That is—” The bird cocked its head. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Uh, um…duh…” Worried over his trespass into the wrong world being discovered, Snorri stammered incoherently. You never knew when Odin might be watching from his white throne up in Valhalla.
The crow hopped closer and lowered its voice. “I’m just going to put it out there, then. You’re a giant, aren’t you?”
Snorri stifled a gasp. “What gave it away?”
“Don’t worry, it’s all right! You can trust me,” the bird assured him. “I’m not going to tell anyone.” It flicked its tail feathers, and when it leaned forward with a mischievous sparkle in its tiny black eyes, Snorri noticed that the crow had a sprinkling of white feathers on one side of its jet-black face. “But how did you get here? I thought Jugenheim was sealed off from Midgarth long ago by the gods! Cruel Odin, and hateful Thor!”
“Shh!” Snorri said anxiously. Only a madman spoke of the scary gods like that.
Of course, a little birdie couldn’t be expected to understand that. He cocked his head to the side. “Well, they’re the ones that separated the worlds, aren’t they? At least that’s what I’ve heard,” he added innocently.
“Yes, that’s what they say, though it happened long before I was born,” Snorri told him. Indeed, the friendly little creature was so easy to talk to that Snorri couldn’t help himself.
He heaved a sigh and told the curious bird the whole story of how Prince Gorm had made him miserable back in Jugenheim, how Princess Kaia would never see him as anything more than a friend, and how her father, fierce King Olaf, was probably going to make her marry Gorm the bully, then Gorm would be their next king.
King Olaf didn’t have any sons, just a daughter. That was Kaia, and it was not the giants’ way to let a lady be the king.
Absorbed in sharing his tale of woe, Snorri recounted to the bird how he had been stewing on all this as he cleared the rocks from his sheep meadow; how he had popped that big boulder out of the ground and accidentally made a hole; and how he had fallen so far out of the great Tree into Midgarth.
As sunset blazed in the west, he poured out his heart about his misery living in Giant Land and his homesick feelings now—how he couldn’t win either way, and how back home, everyone thought he was a dunce.
The bird listened in sympathy, hopping about, asking a few thoughtful questions, and listening patiently. Snorri thought him very kind.
Done with his tale at last, he poked the fire despondently. The bird walked back and forth across the log in thought.
It ruffled its feathers as it came to some conclusion, and then it looked straight at him. “Snorri,” it said, “I can fix all this. I mean it. I can help you.”
“You can?”
“You’d better believe it, friend! Crows are especially clever, you know, and giants, well, it’s no secret that giants—aren’t. It’s not your fault, of course. Odin made you that way. But I can help! In fact, I already have a plan that could change your life forever!”
“Really?” he exclaimed.
“And if you do exactly as I say,” the crow informed him, “you can return to Jugenheim a hero!”
“Me? A hero?” Snorri asked in wonder.
“Not just a hero, a king!” the bird declared. “Snorri, you are a giant of destiny! They’re wrong to underestimate you, all wrong! You deserve better than this—and if you listen to me, you shall have better. With my help, you can live up to your full potential! Then they’ll be sorry.”
“You really think so?”
The bird hopped up and down in excitement. “I do! With my help, you’ll show them all just how smart you really are! You’ll defeat this Gorm fellow, and you’ll be the one to marry Princess Kaia, not him. In fact, if you follow my instructions, I can make you the next King of Giant Land!”
“Me…?” Snorri could barely imagine it. “How?” he asked eagerly.
“Ah, ah, not so fast,” the crow warned with a sly gleam in its black button eyes. “If I tell you how to do it, you have to promise me something in return.”
“What? Anything!” he said, slightly breathless with excitement and newfound hope.
“Oh, just a little favor,” said the crow. “Nothing for now, of course. But later, when you’re the King of the Giants, let’s just say you’ll owe me one. I may need your help one day, and I just need to know that I’ll be able to call on you if that day should ever come.”
“For what?” he asked.
“Who knows?” th
e bird replied with another innocent-seeming twitch of its wings. “Hard to say. You never know what might come up. But giants can do things that other people can’t. Can’t they?”
“That is true,” Snorri said proudly. Giants might not be the smartest folk, but they were strong, and most of them were brave to the point of recklessness.
Like Gorm.
Just ask poor Old Smokey, the rather elderly dragon who was continuously pestered by young male giants out to prove their manhood.
Snorri rapped his fist against his chest like Gorm and his bully friends would. “We are a warrior people!”
“Yes, I know,” the bird murmured. “And if you ever had a proper leader, you’d be an unstoppable force. So, then, do we have a deal, my friend?”
Snorri was barely paying attention, carried away with heroic imaginings of himself putting Prince Gorm in his place and winning the heart of Princess Kaia.
“Well?”
“Bird, if you can make this happen, certainly! You’ve got yourself a deal!”
“Good, then. Done! Now, you’d better not forget your promise, Snorri. When someone crosses me, there’s a price to be paid. Consequences.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” he said impatiently, though he wondered what the bird could possibly do to him. Peck him? He brushed the thought aside. “I’ll do my part if you’ll do yours. So, how do I win Kaia and become king? What’s the plan?” he asked eagerly.
The crow’s yellow beak almost seemed to curve into a sly smile. “First, we’re going to make you a potion to drink. It has some very specific ingredients that are usually hard to get, but we happen to be in luck. A quantity of this ingredient happens to be nearby. Now, once you drink this potion, then, ha, ha!—you will be transformed into the smartest giant that ever was! A giant genius!”
Snorri absorbed this information in awe. “What’s the special ingredient?” he asked in a reverent hush.
The crow told him.
Snorri’s shaggy eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “Come again?”
“Geniuses,” the crow repeated firmly. “Eight or nine of them at least. We need their brains.”
