by Alane Adams
Chapter Two
Sam spent the day puzzling over his strange encounter with Ms. Endera. It was like she had turned him into a brain-dead zombie with that fingernail trick. He had been paralyzed, unable even to breathe. And how had she moved like a phantom from one side of the room to the other? As the last bell of the day rang, Sam found himself moving though the packed hallway in a daze. He was so busy thinking about Ms. Endera’s eerie green eyes that he didn’t see Ronnie Polk and his little gang of thugs lurking.
Next thing he knew, Ronnie slammed him up against a locker.
“Hey, Baron, seen your dad lately?” Ronnie laughed in Sam’s face, spraying him with spittle. Half his lunch was stuck in his braces.
Two of Ronnie’s pals pinned Sam’s arms back.
“Back off, Ronnie,” Sam said, trying to keep calm.
But Ronnie just sneered. “I’m gonna flatten your nose this time. See how you like it.”
Ronnie pulled his fist back. Sam flinched, waiting for the punch, but a slender hand caught Ronnie’s in a tight grip.
“Leave him alone.” Keely stood there, her hazel eyes fierce as she stared Ronnie down.
The bully looked surprised; then his lip curled into a snarl. “Buzz off,” he said, jerking free and knocking the books out of Keely’s other hand, “before I rearrange your face.”
A flush of anger rose up in Sam, making his cheeks sting. Picking on him was one thing, but picking on a girl? A burning sensation spread through his body, making every inch of his skin tingle. Strange words lit up in his brain, echoing in an incessant chant. With a sudden surge of rage, Sam tore his arms loose and grabbed Ronnie, pushing him backward so hard the boy hit the far wall with a thump. Like exploding firecrackers, the lockers around them blew open with loud cracks.
“I will finish you,” Sam breathed, his fingers wrapped tightly around Ronnie’s collar, “if you ever threaten her again.”
Ronnie paled, shrinking two sizes. And just like that, Sam’s anger faded. The flush in his face returned to normal, and the tingling subsided. He released Ronnie, suddenly ashamed over his outburst, and stepped back. The bully looked green, but he and his crew knocked over a trash can, shouting at the other kids in the hall as they made their escape.
Keely gaped at the open lockers as Sam bent down to pick up her books.
“How did you do that?” she asked.
Sam struggled to return his heart rate to normal. It had happened again, that unexpected flash of anger that took over his brain. He must have slammed Ronnie hard enough to make the lockers fly open. “I didn’t need your help,” he responded, handing the books to her. “I had it under control.”
Keely shook her head, tossing her blond hair over one shoulder. “Really? Because it looked like Ronnie was about to give you a black eye.” She hesitated, then blurted out, “I’m going to the library later, if you want to, you know, study or something. We have that geometry test Friday, and . . .”
“Yeah, I suck at math,” Sam finished for her, smiling so she could see that his dazzling lack of math skills didn’t bother him. “Thanks. But I have to warn you, I don’t know a trapezoid from a tarantula.”
Keely rolled her eyes but gave him a smile as she backed away, clutching her books. “Six o’clock, Baron. Don’t be late.”
Sam grinned, watching her go. Keely had kept to herself since she had moved to Pilot Rock the year before, but today she had shown real spunk. And Sam really needed the help with math.
The sound of distant thunder got him going. He hurried outside to his bike, eyeing the dark clouds overhead, then let out a groan. His back tire was flat—make that shredded. A chunk of rubber was missing, as if something had taken a bite out of it. He put his hand on the tire and came away with a wad of sticky fluid. He tried to shake it off, but it was as thick as gorilla snot.
Did Ronnie sabotage my bike? Sam thought, staring at the damage. A shadow fell over him. He looked up to see the new Umatilla kid hovering.
“What happened?” the kid asked. His dark eyes darted from Sam to the bike.
Sam scratched his head. “You got me. Something took a bite out of my tire.”
The other boy knelt down, running his hand over the rim. He rubbed his fingers in the gorilla snot, bringing it to his nose to sniff it. “This is bad,” he said, standing. He wiped his hand on his jeans. “You’re being hunted.”
“Hunted?” Sam’s voice rose an octave. “By who?”
“Don’t worry. It’s my honor to protect you.”
He looked so serious, Sam did not have the heart to laugh, but the kid was clearly out of his mind.
“I’m Leo,” the boy said, and stuck out his hand.
Sam hesitated and then offered his own hand. “Sam.”
As they shook, Leo’s sleeve pulled away, revealing a long scar on the inside of his forearm. It looked like his arm had been torn up pretty badly. Leo caught Sam’s glance and pulled his sleeve down.
Sam tried to be polite. “No offense, Leo, but I think I’ll be fine. The most dangerous things around here are the rats in the cafeteria.”
Leo looked like he wanted to argue, but Sam gave him a wave and started to push his wobbly bike down the street. He half expected the kid to follow him, but when he looked over his shoulder, Leo was gone.
Sam shook his head, perplexed. Some slobbery dog had probably mistaken his tire for a chew toy. Heavy drops began to fall, rolling down his neck and under his jacket. He lowered his head as the wind picked up and blew rain into his eyes.
By the time Sam made it to his driveway, his clothes were plastered to his skin and his fingers felt like skinny Popsicles. He fumbled with the key to open the side door to the garage and trundled the bike inside.
That’s when his day got even weirder. By a factor of ten.
A bearded dwarf dressed in burlap stood where his mom’s car usually parked, pointing a large sword at Sam. Thick reddish whiskers bristled around his nose. His sharp blue eyes seemed to miss nothing as he looked Sam up and down.
Sam raised his hands, hoping the dwarf wouldn’t see how scared he was. “I-I don’t have any money,” he stuttered.
“What’s your name, boy?”
Sam backed away. “Sam. Sam Baron.”
The dwarf came closer, pressing the tip of the blade to Sam’s stomach. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint,” Sam joked, hoping the dwarf wasn’t about to run him through.
The dwarf continued to glare at him. Then he sheathed his sword and shook his head. “So the rumors were true. This changes everything. Name’s Rego.” He bowed slightly. “I served under your father.”
In a single heartbeat, Sam went from scared out of his wits to indignant. “My dad doesn’t live here anymore, so you can go serve him somewhere else. Feel free to show yourself out.” Dropping his hands, Sam nodded at the sword. “Unless you’re planning to use that on me, I have a tire to fix.”
Without waiting for an answer, Sam turned his back on the strange dwarf. His heart was pounding, but he was determined to act normal. He picked up his bike and flipped it over on the bench, kneading the rubber off the rim. Definite teeth marks had scored the aluminum. What kind of crazy animal attacked bicycle tires?
“We don’t have much time, so it’s vital that you listen to me,” Rego said gravely. “Your life is in danger, Samuel. Something treacherous stalks you in Pilot Rock”—he stopped, squinting at the scratches on Sam’s rim—“and from the look of things, it’s already got your scent.”
That Leo kid had said the same thing. Frowning, Sam opened a cupboard to get a new tire, when a giant bird burst out, knocking him over. It flew into Sam’s face like it was trying to claw out his eyes.
Sam threw his arms up. “Get it away!” he yelled, batting at it, but Rego just let out a hearty laugh.
“That’s where you’ve been hiding, Lagos.” Rego gave a low whistle. The winged thing immediately withdrew and glided over to the dwarf’s shoulder, where
it perched daintily.
Sam risked a proper look at it. The bird was twice as big as a hawk, with cinnamon-orange feathers on its wings and a snow-white chest. Its beak looked sharp enough to rip his face off.
“What is that thing?” Sam asked, slowly picking himself up off the ground.
“She’s a iolar.” It rolled off Rego’s tongue like yo-lar. “Noblest creature in the Ninth Realm.” He ran his hand along her wing, smoothing her plumes with his fingers and crooning softly to her in a singsong language. “Go on, make friends with her.”
Sam extended his hand tentatively and stroked the front of Lagos’s chest with his knuckles. Her heartbeat was steady and strong. He pulled his hand back. “So . . . who are you, again?”
Before Rego could answer, Lagos cocked her head toward the window and let out an alarming squawk. Rego’s whole demeanor changed instantly. He unsheathed his sword, and his voice lowered to a growl.
“Let’s just say I’m a friend of the family.” Rego began slowly backing away toward the door. “I swore an oath to your father to protect you, and I never take an oath unless I’m willing to stake my life on it. But you must be careful, Samuel. The stones don’t lie. You are in great danger.” Then he tossed something into the air.
Sam caught it easily. It was a smooth rock, like the kind found in a riverbed. On its face was the scratched symbol of a jagged shape. When Sam looked up, the dwarf was gone.
Chapter Three
Sam paced from one end of the house to the other, trying to understand both how a dwarf had ended up in his garage and why an Umatilla boy had warned him that he was being hunted. Not to mention his substitute English teacher was, well, strange, to say the least. Sam stared at the phone, tempted to call his mom, but she would just worry. His math book sat on the table. Sam made a decision. He would go see Keely at the library and then come straight home.
The rain had stopped, leaving scattered puddles that reflected the light from the streetlamps. Ordinarily, Sam wasn’t afraid of riding in the dark. Pilot Rock was about the most boring town in the world. But tonight, his nerves were on edge as he pedaled down the darkened streets, imagining that he saw something lurking in the shadows of every tree he passed.
He was three blocks from the library when a strange howl split the silence of the night. The sound made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Sam skidded his bike to a stop across from the dumpy town park. He could make out the swing set outlined against the white sand of the playground.
There. In the bushes fronting the park. Was that a rustle?
“Hello?” Sam couldn’t see anything through the dense brush. His blood chilled. Was it the same animal that had tried to eat his tire? The animal that Leo and Rego said was hunting him?
Sam hesitated, biting down on his lip. It might be foolish, but he had to know. He couldn’t run away like a scared kitten. Leaving his bike, he crossed the street and then jumped back as Leo himself stepped out of a bush. The boy held a long wooden lance in his hands. The grip was wrapped in leather, like deer-skin. Its sharp metal tip glinted in the streetlight.
“Leo?” Sam let out the breath he had been holding, relieved and irritated he had been frightened by nothing. “Jeez, what’s the deal? Are you following me?”
But Leo’s eyes were trained on a spot just over Sam’s shoulder. “Run,” he said, shoving Sam behind him.
Sam turned in time to see a king-size wolf step out of the bushes and onto the sidewalk. Soot black, it had enormous paws the size of Sam’s baseball mitt. A long snout jutted from a head that was squared and capped by tall, pointed ears. Fangs glistened in the weak light of the streetlamp as it snarled at the boys. And those eyes: feral, wild, and hungry.
Nimbly twirling the lance, Leo snapped it to a stop and held it in front of him as he crouched low. “Don’t worry, Sam. My father has entrusted me with your protection. I won’t let you down.”
He jabbed at the fierce creature with his weapon, but it snapped its jaws, breaking the lance in half like a toothpick. Then the wolf coiled itself and sprang over Leo, straight at Sam. Terror froze Sam to the spot. All he could see was a set of glowing green eyes bearing down, claws outstretched, when a large figure knocked him to the ground. Sam scuffed his face on the pavement as the beast sailed past, skidding to a landing on the other side.
“Stay down,” the man said, before jumping to his feet. He was another Umatilla, older, but with the same long black hair and caramel skin as Leo. Three more Umatilla appeared out of the bushes. They surrounded Sam, holding sturdier lances than the one Leo had brandished.
“Dad! What are you doing here?” Leo asked, grabbing his broken lance and holding it in front of him.
“You should have told me a Shun Kara had returned,” his father rebuked.
The men shouted and jabbed at the beast, driving it back. The wolf kept circling, trying to move in. Finally, with a howl that hurt Sam’s ears, it loped off into the dark, fading into the shadows.
Leo stuck out his hand to help Sam up. “I’m sorry, Sam. This was my fault.”
“What was that thing?” Sam said, feeling the sting where his cheek had scraped the ground.
Leo’s father cut in. “That was a Shun Kara. The black wolf. If my son had warned me, you would have been properly protected. I’m Chief Pate-wa. You have my word: it won’t happen again. From now on, my people will be standing by to keep you safe.”
The other Umatilla men stood in a circle, staring silently at Sam. Leo’s head hung low. Sam knew he should thank them, but he backed away, feeling spooked by the chief’s words.
“I can take care of myself. Just leave me alone.”
“Wait, Sam!” Leo shouted after him, but Sam ran to his bike and shoved off. He pedaled furiously, imagining the clicking sounds of nails loping along the pavement, gaining on him with every step.
The bright lights of the library were the most welcome sight Sam had ever seen. Locking his bike to the rail, he barreled up the steps, not breathing until he was safe inside the building. He found Keely on the third floor, bent over a math book. Her hair had fallen over her face like a blond curtain.
She looked up with a smile, then frowned when she saw the scrape on Sam’s face. “Don’t tell me you ran into Ronnie Polk.”
“No. Just something . . . stupid. Forget it.” Sam didn’t want to think about that wolf or Leo’s strange need to protect him. It had to be some kind of Umatilla tribal thing.
“What is it with you and Ronnie, anyway?” she asked, laying her pencil down.
Sam flushed. “We got into it last summer. At my twelfth birthday party.” He grew silent as he dredged up the memory of that day. One minute, he had been enjoying his slice of cake; the next, he’d had Ronnie down on the ground, pounding his face into the dirt like a tent stake.
“What did he do?”
“It’s not what he did. It’s what he said.” Sam stared at his hands as he recalled the words. “He was mouthing off, saying my dad left town to be with his real family.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. I might have overreacted. Howie said I turned bright red.” All Sam remembered was that the sun had felt too hot, like he was burning up inside. The cake had slipped out of his fingers, and a roar in his ears had sent him into a boiling rage. He had never felt so much anger at one time.
Sam looked at Keely. “To be honest, I don’t even remember hitting him; it just happened so fast.” Sam left out the part where Ronnie had called him a freak as the boy’s mother rushed him away, glaring at Sam as if he were some kind of monster.
“So, what’s the story with your dad?” she asked softly.
Thinking of his dad was like stepping on a thumbtack. “He took off. Two years ago. No note, no warning—just left town.”
Keely said nothing at first; then she covered his hand with hers. “I’m sorry. I know how that must feel.”
Sam seriously doubted that. Hoping to change the subject, he took the odd stone the dwarf had given him from his p
ocket and tossed it on the table. “I found this today. You ever see anything like it?”
“This looks like a rune stone,” Keely said, picking it up and studying it. “Runes are part of Norse mythology. I did a project on them in sixth grade.”
She set the stone down and disappeared into the racks, eventually returning with a heavy, leather-bound book. She laid it out on the table, flipping through its pages. Sam scooted his chair closer to look over her shoulder. She smelled of cherry Chap-Stick. It was nice. The sheets were filled with drawings of fierce-looking men and strange, mythical animals.
“Here it is,” she said, turning to a page with a list of symbols. She pointed at the image of a sharply pointed , just like the one scratched on the rock.
“What does it say?”
She studied the text. “This one stands for Sigel. It says, ‘The holder of this stone is the source of energy for the sun.’”
“What does that mean?”
Keely shrugged. “The runes aren’t literal. You interpret them according to the person and the wisdom being sought.” She flipped through more pages.
“Who’s that?” Sam pointed at a picture of an old man with a long beard and muscled arms, dangling from the branch of a large tree.
“That’s Odin. He was the most powerful god in Norse culture.”
Sam’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Odin. What had Ms. Endera said? She was looking for a Son of Odin? “This Odin, did he have sons?”
“Sure, Odin had lots of sons and daughters. Haven’t you ever heard of Thor?”
Sam couldn’t stop a chuckle. “If Ms. Endera’s after a movie star, then she’s got the wrong guy.”
“Thor is based on a Norse myth,” Keely persisted. “Odin was his father.”
“Fine. Are any of these sons still alive?”
“Technically, the Norse gods are all dead. They walked the earth until an ultimate battle called Ragnarok, but some people believe they still exist in one of the other realms.”
“What other realms?”
She leaned in intently, folding her hands. “Odin created these nine realms, like worlds within worlds, each one separate from the other. The underworld was part of the lower realms. Our world, the world of mankind, was somewhere in the middle, and Asgard, the home of the gods, was at the top.” Her eyes shone with excitement as she told the tale.
