Jake & The Giant (The Gryphon Chronicles, Book 2)

by E. G. Foley

  Snorri stared at him in shock. “You mean…in their heads?”

  “Yes, in their heads, you great goose! The brains must be pureed and stirred with a whisk, then dried to a powder and combined with a few more ingredients, mostly mundane. Feverfew and dewdrops, a little eye of newt. That sort of thing.”

  “I see…”

  “Come now, are you a fearsome warrior giant or not?” the bird asked crossly, seeing his hesitation. “You’re supposed to be mighty and ferocious. Can you even roar?”

  “Of course I can roar, when I feel like it,” he said defensively. “But I didn’t really come here to kill anyone.”

  “Oh, so now you’re being judgmental! If you’re too much of a goody two-shoes for my plan—”

  “I’m not!”

  “So, we need some human brains. So what? As a bird, I don’t usually like this saying, but if you want to make an omelet, then you’ve got to break some eggs.”

  “Or skulls, in this case.”

  “Genius skulls, exactly. But no worries, if it’s not worth a crown to you, along with the heart of your true love, then never mind! I don’t want to bother you—”

  “No, no, of course I’ll do it! I’ll catch them, like you said.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Snorri muttered. “I was just—a little surprised, that’s all.”

  “All right then. Eight or nine geniuses, as I said.” The crow finally seemed satisfied. “Keep them in your traps until it’s time. Remember, look for the ones with the crazy hair. If they have spectacles and a bowtie, even better. That’s the smartest kind. Especially if they’re talking to themselves.”

  Snorri mumbled the instructions under his breath, doing his best to memorize all the bird’s points about where to go to reach the University down the mountain, and what sort of men to grab.

  “Have you got all that, Snorri?”

  “Yes, bird.”

  “Good. Now, be careful! And don’t let these scientists catch you. You’re going to have to be stealthy,” the crow warned. “If they get hold of you first, they’ll do horrid experiments on you. As much as I might want to help you if that happens, I won’t be able to. Or certain gods might find out,” the bird added discreetly.

  “Uhh, I understand,” Snorri rumbled. “Can’t have that.” The bird sure didn’t seem to like the gods.

  “No, we can’t. So when you catch these men with the big brains, just keep them in their cages until I come back. Once you have the full amount needed, then we’ll make the potion. Good luck,” the crow added. It spread its jet-black wings and flapped into the air, disappearing among the trees.

  Snorri was left standing alone by his campfire, barely able to contain his excitement about his change of fortunes. King Snorri…?

  That had a nice ring!

  His earlier doubts about catching people and turning their brains into powder faded with surprising speed as he let his imagination bask in the glow of his newfound dreams.

  Kaia by his side, a crown on his head, and all the other giants finally forced to show him some respect.

  That bird better keep up his end of the bargain, Snorri thought as he got to work building wooden cages to hold his future captives. For as anxious as he was to get home to Princess Kaia and his dear sheepies, there was no time to waste.

  Gorm was wrong! He wasn’t a loser, he was a giant of destiny, and he’d start catching geniuses tonight.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Miss Langesund’s Surprise

  Miss Langesund led their group across campus and through the university gardens, until they finally approached the little wooden museum that sat all alone at the end of the path.

  The building resembled a church, and when Jake asked if it used to be one, she said no. Since her father’s big discovery had to do with Norwegian history, they had modeled the building to house the exhibit on a traditional style of architecture that could be seen all over Norway in the small wooden stave churches that dated back to medieval times.

  When they reached the little museum, which was presently closed to the public, she unlocked the wooden double doors and then turned to face the group. “Now then, children,” she said with a dramatic flair worthy of the ancient Norse bards, “prepare yourselves to step back in time nearly a thousand years to the tenth century—and the golden age of the Vikings!”

  Then she opened the door. It swung with a heavy creak.

  Though they all were eager to see the surprise, Jake stepped forward first into the shadows.

  Inside the hushed space of the museum, the fading light of sunset slanted in through the gothic windows to reveal the long, wooden remnants of a magnificent Viking ship.

  The children were awestruck as they filed in, staring at it.

  “My father discovered it buried on the shores of Oslo Fjord. The ship is sixty-seven feet long, with twelve pairs of oars, all made of oak.”

  “This is amazing,” Dani murmured.

  Miss Langesund smiled. “Indeed. A thousand years ago, these long-boats were the technological wonder of their time. The Vikings crossed the seas in these boats. But as you can see, the keels are shallow enough that they could travel up rivers, too. No place was safe from their invasions.”

  “They certainly came to England,” Henry said for the benefit of the children. “Stone monuments covered in Viking runes can be found throughout the British Isles. I daresay we’ve all got some Viking blood in our veins.”

  “Probably so,” Miss Langesund agreed.

  Jake homed in on a mysterious, shadowed walkway that led down into the museum floor beneath the ship. He pointed at it. “May we go down there?”

  “Of course,” Miss Langesund said, gesturing in welcome. “Down there, you can see what the hull looks like from below. This allows us to learn more about the Vikings’ shipbuilding methods. Or you can climb up on the catwalk above us, if you want to look down at the inside of the ship.”

  “But don’t touch anything!” Henry warned once again.

  The kids scarcely heard, immediately running around to view the ancient ship from all angles. Miss Langesund stepped out of their way and proceeded to explain how her father’s team had dug it up painstakingly and moved it bit by bit into this sanctuary, where it would be preserved for future generations of Norwegians to ponder the courage and skill of their seafaring ancestors.

  “Any idea who it belonged to?” Henry asked while the children ooh’ed and ahh’ed.

  “No, I’m afraid any trace of him is long gone. But it would have been a warlord of some kind, a chief or a nobleman, maybe even a king. If you’d like to step over here and look at the other grave goods we found, you can see by his personal property that he was certainly someone of high rank.”

  They gathered around a table where the smaller grave goods of the ship’s anonymous owner were on display. An incredible sword covered in runes. A drinking horn carved from a massive antler. A cloak brooch, intricately worked in pure silver. A marvelous helmet with a chain-mail tunic, and a round shield whose colors had long since faded. There were jewels, too.

  “The Vikings traded with people as far away as the Ottoman Empire,” Miss Langesund was explaining.

  But Jake was staring at the faint blue glow around some of the grave goods. Uh-oh…

  Of course, no one else could see what he could.

  “Why did they bury their stuff with them when they died?” Dani asked, gazing at the chain mail.

  “They thought their dead would need these items in the afterlife. In this warlord’s case, no doubt, he went straight to Valhalla.”

  “Viking heaven?” Jake supplied.

  “That’s correct.”

  “I say, did the Vikings also have a bad place, I mean, where bad people went after they died?”

  “Oh, yes, indeed! Neiflheim,” she replied. “A realm of fire and brimstone beneath the earth.”

  “Neffle-hime?” Jake echoed.

  “That’s right. Neiflheim was t
he realm of the trickster god, Loki.”

  He furrowed his brow. “The Vikings had a trickster for a god?”

  “Loki wasn’t their top god,” she explained. “That was Odin the Wise, the All-Father, as he was called. Odin was the king of the gods, as well as the patron of warriors, death, wisdom, runes, and prophecy.”

  “Busy chap,” Henry said.

  She smiled. “Valhalla means the ‘Hall of Odin,’ you see. Odin was always said to be wandering around the earth in disguise, looking for great warriors and heroes that he could recruit for Valhalla after their death.”

  “What, Vikings still have to fight battles even after they’re dead?” Dani exclaimed.

  “Only one…” Miss Langesund adopted an ominous tone, though she was smiling. “The greatest battle of all, at the end of time. You see, the ancient Viking bards wrote about a final, mighty battle between good and evil that would bring on the end of the world. It was called the Battle of Ragnarok. On one side, Odin would lead his Valhalla army of all the dead great heroes of men to fight on the side of good.”

  “Who’s on the bad side? Thor?” Jake asked, wide-eyed as he tried to imagine it.

  “Heavens, no. Thor’s the Norse people’s favorite.” Miss Langesund smiled fondly. “He’s Odin’s right-hand man and favorite son—the god of thunder. Thor ruled the weather and the sea—two very important concerns for a seafaring people who built ships like this, as you can imagine. No, the leader on the bad side in the Battle of Ragnarok would be our troublemaker Loki, commanding an army of giants.”

  “Giants?” Dani echoed while the rest of them grinned.

  “Oh, my dear, we love our giants and our trolls here in Norway,” Miss Langesund said with a chuckle that told them she obviously thought such things were mere legends, like the old Norse gods.

  Jake dearly hoped that she was right.

  The lady-archeologist folded her arms across her chest and leaned casually against her desk while Henry stood nearby, hands in pockets, gazing at her with a smitten smile.

  “Loki was always the troublemaker,” she continued. “He loved causing chaos and could change forms at will—”

  “A shapeshifter?” Archie blurted out.

  When Miss Langesund nodded, all four children tried very hard not to look at Henry.

  His smile turned brittle, but he managed not to give his secret away to his lady friend. He cleared his throat, lowered his gaze, and said nothing.

  Miss Langesund resumed their lesson on Norse mythology. “Loki was a very interesting fellow—more mischievous than evil—though in some of the old stories, he could be pretty rotten. You didn’t want Loki for an enemy, to be sure. But personally, I always saw him more as a free-thinker.”

  “Why do you say that?” Archie asked as he admired one of the daggers the archeologists had dug up.

  She shrugged. “Loki never really followed all the usual Viking rules. He liked to experiment.”

  “Really?” Archie glanced over in surprise.

  She nodded. “Once he turned himself into a woman for a while, just to see what it was like. The ultra-manly Thor was, of course, horrified.”

  The others laughed, but Jake had gone stock-still, staring past the table. He alone was not surprised when a nearby stack of brochures suddenly flew off the table and fluttered in all directions, strewn across the floor.

  “Oh, I’m so clumsy!” the lady-archeologist burst out in embarrassed surprise, since she had been standing nearest to the papers. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me! I do this sort of thing all the time!”

  While she blushed crimson, Henry and Archie instantly stooped to help her pick up the scattered papers. But Jake stood rooted to his spot, staring at the bluish spectral figure looming behind the table. The hairs on his nape stood on end; goosebumps tingled down his arms.

  “With all the delicate work we do, have you ever heard of anything so silly as a clumsy archeologist?” poor Miss Langesund was muttering, looking rather humiliated.

  “It’s all right, Astrid,” Henry was saying gently.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” she mumbled as he and Archie helped her gather up her things.

  Dani glanced at Jake, noticing his sudden stillness. But for his part, he didn’t even blink, riveted by the sight of the towering ghost who presently stepped out of the wall wearing a horned helmet.

  Blimey.

  Ghosts didn’t usually scare him, but this one looked terrifying, with his rough beard and tangled long hair with thin braids in front, flowing over his massive shoulders.

  Tattoos of Norse knots and Viking runes covered his massive shoulders and arms that bulged like those of a circus strongman.

  Scariest of all was the look of his bluish, spectral face—a glare of icy rage.

  Jake gulped, rather sure he had just found the original owner of the Viking ship. Indeed, if he were not scared speechless, he could have told Miss Langesund, You’re not clumsy.

  You’re haunted.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Shield King’s Wrath

  “WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER?”

  The little ship museum reverberated with the booming spectral voice, but nobody reacted. No one else could hear.

  That honor belonged to Jake alone, thanks to the unusual talent he had inherited from his mother.

  Henry and Archie continued helping Miss Langesund pick up her things while the mighty Viking warrior ghost stormed past them.

  Jake watched him warily, unsure what to do. The phantom must have used up most of his energy throwing down Miss Langesund’s stack of papers, for thankfully, he didn’t have much effect on anything else—which only seemed to frustrate him more.

  Isabelle glanced around, as though sensing strong anger from someone in the room.

  Unaware of the ghost nearby, she must have assumed it was coming from one of their party. Predictably, she raised her hand to her temple with a slight wince.

  The ghost was growing angrier by the minute. The less they paid attention, the more furious the Viking chief became. Jake could barely believe his eyes as he watched the mighty blue spectral figure pick up a ghostly version of his battle axe on display and try to cut Henry in half with it.

  Of course, it didn’t work. Seeing that his weapon had no effect, the ghost muttered a curse. “By Odin’s beard!” He hurled the axe aside and reached this time for his sword, picking up a translucent, bluish copy of it, while the real, solid one remained lying on the table.

  Wide-eyed, Jake watched the Viking warlord menace his cousins with the phantom weapon—until he noticed Miss Langesund. He gave her a leer, let out a laugh, and tried to grab the lady-archeologist, as if to carry her off like his stolen brides of centuries ago.

  But his giant, muscled arms whooshed right through her, so he whirled away in frustration, only to notice next that Archie was fingering his dagger.

  “How dare you trifle with my things, you brazen cub? Put that down or I’ll teach you to mind your elders!” The Viking ghost strode over to Archie and tried to smack his hand away from the knife, to no avail.

  Archie could neither see nor hear him, nor feel the rap on his knuckles. The ghost was so outraged at being ignored by everyone that he let out a wordless roar, and then flew up onto his ship.

  Jake finally snapped out of his daze from watching the ghost. “Er, Henry, a word, please?”

  Having just finished helping Miss Astrid pick up her papers, Henry straightened up again. “Yes?”

  Jake pulled their tutor aside by his elbow, and, in a hushed tone, hastily explained the situation.

  Henry stared at him, absorbing this news. “Oh, dear.”

  “I can try and talk to him, but you have to get the others out of here. Maybe I can reason with him, find out what he wants. At least let me try. It’s either that or he’s going to continue raging around these artifacts. He seems furious, and of any ghost I’ve seen, he looks the most capable of doing serious damage.”

  Henry frowned, then gla
nced around the ship museum, as though trying to spot the ghost, but of course, he didn’t have that ability.

  “What if he does something to harm Miss Langesund or her father when they’re in here working alone?” Jake urged. “He could knock the ship down on them when they’re underneath studying it or push them off the walkway.” He nodded up at the elevated gallery. “If you give me a few minutes alone to talk to him, I’ll find out what he wants and try to calm him down.”

  Henry considered his proposal with a worried glance at his lady friend. He obviously wanted her and her father to be safe when they were in here working.

  He looked at Jake again. “You’re sure about this?”

  Jake nodded.

  “Very well,” Henry said reluctantly. He started to turn away, then he got an idea. “Maybe you could interview this Viking ghost for Astrid and get more information on the ship. He could be an incredible source of scholarly—”

  Jake just looked at him, and Henry’s words broke off.

  “Right,” the tutor mumbled. “Astrid is a scientist. She’ll think we’re both daft. Never mind.” Henry gave Jake a wry smile. “Very well, then. If you’re sure you want to do this, I’ll make an excuse and get everyone out of here. Then you can slip back in by yourself. But please be careful, Jake. Don’t do anything to provoke this Viking ghost. Get out of here if he becomes too threatening, understand? When he was alive, this man was probably a killing machine.”

  Jake nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  “Have a care with the artifacts, too. If anything is damaged, I’m afraid we both might get to witness Miss Astrid’s inner Valkyrie.”

  “Huh? What’s that?”

  “Never mind, I’ll tell you later. And Jake, take care to mind your manners. The warrior who owned this ship was likely a king or a chieftain. Be sure and show respect.”

  “Believe me, I will.”

  Henry nodded and walked back to the others. Jake followed, but he could not stop staring at the Viking ship, for it had been transformed by the presence of its former master.

  With the Viking warrior at the helm, the ship was restored to a bluish, spectral version of its former glory, complete with a single striped sail and a carved dragon figurehead arching off the prow.