by Alane Adams
“Endera. What do you seek?” Catriona kept her voice neutral. Endera was important, even if her grief was getting tiresome.
“The boy lives,” Endera reproached.
“He is a useful pawn. When we are finished with him, he will die, like all pawns.”
“You will not turn him,” she said, stepping forward. “I tried.”
“You tried and failed. I will not,” Catriona decreed.
Lightning slashed the sky, lighting up the hatred on Endera’s face. “You underestimate his strength.”
Catriona’s nostrils flared. An uncontrollable urge to crush Endera’s windpipe under her hands swept over her. Her knuckles tightened.
Fear dilated Endera’s pupils, turning her eyes black. “Kill me, hag, and every witch here will turn on you,” she hissed. The Shun Kara snarled, stepping forward, snapping at the air.
Thunder roared in the background. The turret lit up with the flare of a lightning strike out on the bog.
Catriona glared into the angry depths of Endera’s eyes. She had no fear of the animal; she could erase it with one snap. But now was not the time to assert her power, not until she was sure the coven would stand behind her. She relaxed her face. “I have no intention of killing you, Endera. If I did, you would already be dead. No, you are far too valuable to me. And as such, I promise you, the boy’s life will be yours to take when I am finished with him.”
“And your sister? Agathea is as much to blame for my misery.”
“She can be yours as well. When we seal our victory, I will not stand in your way.” The lie passed smoothly over her lips. Once Catriona sealed her reign over the coven, Endera would be disposed of. With a flurry of her skirts, Catriona swept down the stairs.
Chapter Nine
After Vor disappeared, Leo made his way back to camp and burrowed under some dead leaves, sleeping deeply until the sun had risen high in the sky.
Leo sat up and put a hand to his side. It was tender, but healing. So he hadn’t imagined it—Vor had actually visited him during the night. Keely and Howie were nowhere to be found. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and murmured the prayer of his people.
“P’ca tiicam, P’sit tuxin, k’alanawa.” Mother earth, Father sky, I thank you for this day.
Laughter drifted through the trees. Leo staggered to his feet as Howie and Keely scampered back into the clearing. Keely held the tails of her shirt carrying some greens, while Howie carefully held a piece of dripping bark folded in a cone. But the bigger surprise was Keely’s newly shorn hair. It had turned completely white overnight. Not exactly white. The tips looked like they had been dipped in silver.
“You’re awake!” Keely said with a smile of relief. She dropped her supplies on the ground. There were some green tubers, a black cabbage, and a handful of jookberries. “But you shouldn’t be up.”
“What happened to your hair?” Leo asked.
Howie handed him the dripping bark cup. “Drink, my wolf-pack brother, before I spill it all.”
Leo tipped it back, swallowing it down in three gulps.
“I have no idea why my hair turned white,” Keely said, patting her pixie cut gingerly. “Howie think’s it’s a side-effect of drinking from Mimir’s well. But really, you shouldn’t be up.”
“I’m better. Vor came to me last night and healed me.” Leo lifted his shirt. The ugly wound was already closed over.
“Get out of here,” Keely said, touching it in awe.
“She told me something strange,” Leo said, lowering his shirt. “Can the gods die?”
Keely looked at Howie. He shrugged.
“I suppose they can,” Keely said. “In the ancient days, when the gods still walked the earth, Odin was killed by Fenrir the wolf.”
“But he’s still around. Sam spoke to him,” Leo said. “And we saw him on Asgard as Brunin.”
“The gods are more than their human form.” Keely sat on the ground and patted the spot next to her. Leo joined her as Howie poked a stick in the fire to stir the ashes back to life. “I’m guessing their powers keep their spirits alive here in the Ninth Realm, long after they’re dead. They have a permanent home in Valhalla, which is somewhere over a rainbow bridge, if you believe what was written thousands of years ago.”
“And if their spirit is . . . taken? What then?” Leo asked, pressing for more information.
Howie picked up a hunk of black cabbage and bit into it. “Taken?”
Leo put a warning hand on Howie’s arm. “Don’t eat that raw. It will make your belly ache.”
Howie just kept chewing. “Dude, I got an iron stomach.” He let out a burp.
Keely handed Leo some jookberries. “What do you mean, taken?”
Leo ate the berries, savoring their tart flavor. “I don’t know. It was something Vor said. That unless we stop Sam in time, one of their own will be taken.”
“I know there are some gods that have moved on to the underworld and have not returned. Odin’s son Baldur was lost to him. What do you think Vor meant by it?”
Leo shrugged, feeling uneasy.
After their simple meal, they stomped out the fire.
“So which quest first?” Howie asked. His stomach let out an ominous gurgle. He winced, looking a touch green, but carried on. “We going after Keely’s shining pearl? Or fighting the iguanadillo for the cuff? I’m down for either.”
“Sorry, Howie, I think we need to go to Skara Brae first,” Keely said. “We’ll need Rego’s help to go north. If this island is Garamond, then we can’t be far.”
Howie sighed. “Great. Let my humiliation begin.”
Keely was as shocked as Leo at the change in her hair color. Howie had noticed it first. She hadn’t believed it until she had seen her reflection in the small stream they found. She looked Eifalian with the alabaster white color, but oddly, the ends were tipped in silver. Mimir. Was it as Howie said, a side-effect of drinking from his well? Or had the old sage done something when he jabbed her with the feather? And it wasn’t just her hair. Her fingers tingled, like they were extra sensitive.
Howie led the way through the forest. Leo advised they keep the sun to their left to not get lost. Leo walked slower than normal, but he seemed to be mending fast.
“What about Sam?” Leo asked. “I mean, are you sure we shouldn’t try to rescue him before we go on our quests? He could help us.”
Keely thought about it, then shook her head. “No. Catriona is too powerful. I don’t know why Odin needs us to go after these things, but he does.”
“If it helps Sam, I’m in,” Leo said. “He’s saved my life more than once. And I believe he can beat Catriona if we help him.”
Keely hooked her arm in his. “I agree.”
Howie stopped abruptly, forcing Keely to bump into him.
“Howie,” Keely complained, ready to shove him along. But he shushed her and grabbed her and Leo both by the collars and yanked them down into some brush.
“What is it?” Keely whispered.
“Look,” he hissed, parting the branches.
Keely choked back a gasp. They had nearly walked into a nest of witches. There were six or seven young witchlings milling about in a clearing. They wore similar outfits, black leggings and tall boots with belted tunics. An older woman stirred a large cauldron that hung over a fire.
She clapped her hands, and a burst of purplish gray smoke rose up.
The smoke swirled and danced around, changing colors as shimmering silver streaks ran through it, zigzagging until there was the outline of a horrid face. Keely instantly recognized it. She had seen it on the battlefield the day Sam had released its owner from her stone prison.
Catriona.
Her voice boomed from her hovering image. “Dear Ariane. Odin has sent three earth children over. Find them and end them. They are close by. Odin must not be allowed to interfere.”
The witch called Ariane shook her fist. “I will ferret them out and cook their flesh over my fire. They will not leave this fores
t alive.”
The smoke dissipated, erasing Catriona’s image. Ariane whirled around, pointing her finger at her young acolytes. “Why do you stand there? Find them. Bring them to me.”
They sank lower in the brush. The witches scattered through the woods. One walked so close, she nearly clomped on Keely’s hand with her pointed boot. Ariane was alone by the fire, stirring the steaming cauldron, and muttering to herself.
Keely looked at Leo. He jerked his head, motioning them to back away, but before they could move, there was a loud gurgling sound followed by a rumbling croak like someone had stepped on a toad.
Howie had burped.
They froze. Ariane kept stirring the pot, but her shoulders hunched tighter, and she snapped her fingers twice.
“So much for your iron stomach,” Keely whispered to Howie, who shrugged sheepishly. “We need to go.” They started to back away, but they ran into something solid.
Behind them, a trio of witches waited, green fireballs over their hands.
“Bring them to me,” Ariane commanded from the clearing. “I have plans for them.”
The closest witch beckoned with one hand. They clambered to their feet. Leo put his arm protectively around Keely’s shoulder.
But Howie puffed out his chest, swaggering forward. “Look, ladies, there’s enough of me to go around, no need to fight over me.”
The witchling flicked her finger, and a blast of witchfire shot at Howie’s feet. He yelped, dancing on one foot as he held the other one. The smell of burning rubber rose from his smoking tennis shoe.
They were hustled into the clearing. Ariane whirled around and eyed them up and down.
She had a large hooked nose and a wrinkled mole the size of a fat raisin on her chin. Her eyebrows were dark and bushy over a pair of smoldering green eyes that gave her a splash of color in an otherwise drab appearance.
“I’m making earth children stew, and I was missing the main ingredient.” The witch tilted her head back and laughed. The acolytes joined in, cawing like a flock of crows.
“We’re not your next meal, you ugly witch. We’re here to stop Catriona,” Keely said, even though at the moment, she had no idea how she was going to do that.
“Stop Catriona? Mere earth children? So, dearie, can you do this?” She flung her wrist out and strewed red powder onto Howie’s face. Immediately ugly boils popped up, bursting with fluid.
“Yow!” Howie howled, fanning his hands at his face. “Keely, do something!”
Keely was trying to think. “Stop that right now, or else you’ll find out why Odin chose us.”
Ariane’s eyes danced with mirth. “I’m trembling. What will you do to me?”
“Not me. Odin. He’ll . . . he’ll . . .” Keely realized she hadn’t a clue what Odin would do.
Ariane’s bushy brows drew together until it looked like a giant caterpillar crawled across her forehead. “Foolish child, I will enjoy this far too much. Come, my witchlings, draw closer, watch and learn.” The witchlings pressed in around the three heroes, pushing them closer to the fire.
“Ala can tabra, sin mor fera,” she hissed, waving her hands over the pot. Immediately, wisps of putrid-smelling smoke rose up, twisting and turning into thick tendrils, tinged with a violet shade. The coils rose up and then turned and wound around Keely like rope. The smoke plumes were strangely cold and had a weird strength. Like living branches, they twisted and twined around each of the three kids until they could hardly move, let alone breathe.
The acolytes joined in, repeating her words, raising their hands in the air. The smoke started to undulate, lifting the kids off the ground.
“Keely, what’s the plan?” Howie squeaked out, his face an ugly blistered mess of weeping boils.
“I’m thinking,” she said, wriggling, hoping to loosen the tightening coils around her.
“Think fast,” Leo said. “I can barely breathe.”
Just when Keely thought things couldn’t get worse, Ariane threw her hands to the side, drawing her struggling prisoners toward the fire, a maniacal grin on her ugly face. It looked like she was trying to dunk them into her cauldron, which was crazy because the pot was too small. But no sooner had Keely thought that than the pot grew, swelling wide until it was the size of a hot tub. Fizzing liquid steamed and boiled, pocking the surface with bubbles.
The tendrils of smoke lowered them closer to the surface until Keely’s feet skimmed the boiling liquid.
“Keely!” Howie squealed.
Think, Keely, don’t die here. Not yet. Not until you’ve done something amazing with your life.
And then she had a thought. The wraiths had beat a hasty departure when she had shouted they were Chosen Ones, as if in some way their lives mattered. In the brief moment she had made eye contact with that undead beauty, she had glimpsed a spark of humanity, right before it tried to kill her. Maybe they would help. What did she have to lose? They were about to be boiled into witch stew. She closed her eyes, sending a silent message.
Please, help us! We are Odin’s Chosen Ones. It cannot end here. I know you saw me back in the clearing. I know you tried to kill me. But you stopped. If you can hear me, please help. I’ll do anything.
She waited, hoping, as her feet dipped in the water. She drew them up, fighting to stay above the surface. Rising steam made her sweaty and hot. But nothing happened. No shrieking ghouls came. It was over. She had failed.
And then an icy prickle ran up her spine.
And what will we receive in return?
The ghastly voice was like a whisper across her skin.
I will plead your case with Odin, she replied. Please. Help us.
Ariane flung her arms wide. “And now, earth children, you will die.” She moved to clap her hands together, to drop her prey into the pot, but the clearing was suddenly filled with the sounds of screeching. Ghostly figures flew through the air, dozens of them, with their hideous faces and streaming ephemeral hair. The acolytes screamed, fleeing the icy bolts the wraiths shot out of their empty eye sockets. Ariane looked stunned, her mouth a large O.
“Back off, get away,” she squealed, trying futilely to blast the wraiths with witchfire, but there were too many of them.
Three wraiths headed straight for Keely, Leo, and Howie. Keely screamed as the hideous face got close, but the wraiths didn’t impale them with poisonous ice bolts. Instead, they shot at the enchanted coils around them, splintering them and making them dissipate.
Released, they began to drop into the boiling water, but another set of wraiths scooped them up and set them on the ground before zooming back to attack the witches.
Ariane let out an undulating cry, sending a cloud of smoke up around the encampment. The air was thick, making it hard to breathe. Keely clutched Leo’s and Howie’s hands as they fell to their knees, choking and coughing.
The wraiths continued their attack, filling the murky air with eerie wailing. And then there was a burst of green light and everything went quiet. As the smoke slowly dissipated, Keely got to her feet. Leo stood next to her. Howie had his face buried in his hands, his shoulders hunched over.
“Is it over?” he moaned.
Keely grabbed him by the arm, dragging him to his feet. “Yes. I think they’re gone. Let me see those boils.” His face was blistered and swollen, but he brushed her hand away.
“I almost got us killed,” he said, tears running down his cheek. “I shoulda listened to Leo.”
“Hey, stop it,” Keely said. “I got Leo impaled with an ice bolt because I opened my eyes. The point is, we got through it. Thanks to some nasty wraiths.”
“Where did the wraiths come from?” Leo asked.
“I called them.”
His eyebrows shot up. But he didn’t say anything.
Adrenaline pumped through Keely’s veins. She still couldn’t quite believe her desperate plan had worked out. “So, I think we’ve had quite enough adventure for one day. It’s time we found our way out of this forest and got Howie to Skar
a Brae.”
“You’re leaving me there?” He looked woebegone with his patchwork of throbbing red boils and tear streaks cutting a trail through the dirt on his face.
“Don’t worry, Howie. We survived an attack by wraiths and avoided being boiled alive by witches. How much worse can things get? Come on, I have a good feeling about this direction.” She set off through the trees with a spring in her step. Defeating Ariane had given her confidence. Calling the wraiths had been an act of desperation, but it had worked.
Maybe she could figure this out before it was too late to rescue Sam.
Chapter Ten
Sam was losing his mind. Day after day of being locked in a stone dungeon with not even an old Gamer magazine to flip through did that to a guy. He had paced from one end of his cell to the other, searching for an escape, hurling his magic at every crack and crevice to find a way out.
And he had gotten absolutely nowhere.
Water dripped from the ceiling, driving him bonkers with the tiny plonking noise, but he had finally figured out a way to capture the drops in his boot. At least now he had a few sips of smelly-feet water every few hours. Hunger was making him hallucinate. He would stare at a rock and imagine it was a giant cheeseburger. It was getting so bad he found himself drooling over a hunk of granite, about to bite into it before he had snapped himself out of it.
If Catriona’s plan was to turn him into a stark raving lunatic, it was working.
The Deathstalkers had a daily ritual of attacking him, but Sam had gotten smarter, lining up an array of rocks for ammunition to nail them the moment they poked their scaly heads out of a crack. He had tried using witchfire, but in his weakened state, the rocks were more effective. Still, a few of them always managed to slip past and get a nip in before he stomped them or kicked them away. And with every sting, venom loaded up in his system until it felt like his blood was made of gasoline. One more bite and he might just explode . . .
The last attack had cost him. He had been dozing, dreaming about a thick-crust extra-cheese no-anchovies pizza, when they had scuttled their way in, and by the time he had gotten to his rock supply, several of the venom-tailed arachnids had bitten him. Now, he lay on his back on the cold stone drenched in sweat and raked with fever, but he couldn’t stop shivering. His teeth chattered uncontrollably. The scorpions had left after doing their worst, returned to their hidden nests.
