The Legends of Orkney

by Alane Adams

  “Bunking with them,” said Heppner.

  “Side by side,” Speria finished.

  “Starting with cleaning their gear.” Teren stripped off his breastplate and chain mail and dumped his armor in Howie’s arms. “Have this lot polished and cleaned by morning. Make sure my sword is sharpened. And run over to the blacksmith and ask him to adjust the chest piece. It’s feeling tight. And keep that bird on a leash,” he added warily, “or I’ll roast it for Sunday supper.”

  The men laughed as they left Howie in the armory clutching all the gear they stacked on him.

  “No problem,” Howie said to their backs, as Lingas pecked his ear again. “I’ll just take care of this and meet up with you later. You know, so we can talk strategy and stuff.”

  Leo slapped him hard on the back. “You can do this, Howie. Just do your duty and be brave.”

  “Sure thing, my wolf-brother. You just worry about that iguanadillo.”

  Howie looked like he was about to cry. Keely gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry so much. You’re going to do great. Remember, Odin chose you.” She dropped her voice. “And whatever you do, don’t show anyone the Horn of Gjall. It’s not a toy, Howie. In the wrong hands, it could be disastrous.”

  He gave Keely a weak thumbs-up, juggling the armor. “Got it. Lips are sealed. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

  Leo tugged on Keely, but her eyes fell on the far wall of the armory. “Not yet, Leo.” She strode over to the wall and lifted a large bow down. It was beautiful, carved from polished yew. “This time, I’m going to be prepared.”

  Leo grinned as he took another bow carved from redwood. They each took a quiver of arrows before they hurried after Rifkin and the others to the stable.

  Outside the armory, Keely pulled Leo to a sudden stop.

  “What is it?” His brown eyes were full of concern.

  Keely gripped his arm. “When I had my visions, there was more. A lot more I don’t dare tell Teren. When you get the cuff, it will lead you to a place with no life. There’s someone there, waiting. I don’t know who. But he’s in there, and he’s bad news. Do you hear me, Leo? Very bad news. Stay away from him.”

  Leo nodded, and they moved on to the stable. Rego had his own pony, a reddish horse smaller than the others. Tiber rode on a tall black steed. Jey leaped on the back of a painted brown and white horse. He and his father briefly clasped arms. Beo removed his javelin and the case it hung in and handed them over to Jey. A flash of pride lit up the boy’s face as he slung it around his shoulders.

  Beo led a sturdy pinto over to Leo. “You can ride bareback?”

  Leo nodded.

  “Then take my horse. He will ride straight and true.”

  Leo grabbed a fistful of mane and lithely pulled himself up on the back of the horse.

  Keely reached out and took Leo’s hand, pressing it to her face. “Be safe. I think you might have met someone as tough as you,” she joked, looking over at Jey. His dark eyes studied them coolly from the back of his horse.

  Leo didn’t smile, ever serious. “I won’t let you down. I’ll find this golden cuff, Keely. I swear on my honor.”

  She smiled, about to say goodbye, when he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, light as a feather. She was left stunned as he rode away, scattering a flock of ravens that pecked in the dirt.

  Jey’s eyes flared at Leo’s show of affection. He kicked his horse with a sharp thump and jumped in front of Leo to lead the way.

  “Come along, lover girl,” Rifkin ribbed, holding the stable door open. “We’ve a boat to catch.”

  Galatin threw a hooded cloak over her, cinching it under her chin. “Speak to no one. If anyone asks who you are, you are an Eifalian student visiting.”

  Keely nodded and followed him down side-alleys to the harbor. She had barely set foot in Skara Brae and was already being secretly whisked away. But she wasn’t completely alone. She had two of Orkney’s finest with her. And Sam was out there. Waiting for them to be the heroes this time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I am alive.

  Sam repeated that mantra as he paced in the dark hole Catriona had thrown him in. He snapped his fingers, and a ball of light appeared over his palm, giving him a glimpse of dark shadows and solid rock before it went out. He did this over and over. He hated the darkness, but he couldn’t sustain his magic. His brain was too jittery, like he had drunk an entire swimming pool of Mountain Dew.

  Catriona had not returned, but he could feel her malignant presence in his cell. Like she was watching him every second. He picked up one of his pets, letting the scaly creature crawl over the back of his hand as he imagined sending the Gungnir spear through her evil heart. A smile crossed his face.

  She wanted him to join with her.

  Never, he swore to himself, setting the scorpion down. He was one of the good guys. No way she was going to change that about him.

  But you are changing, a voice whispered in his head. Every time you use magic. Every time you smile as you think of a way to extract vengeance. You’re becoming more and more like me every day.

  He tensed. Was that Catriona in his head? He snapped his fingers. Not even a spark. Snapped them again. His fingers were slick with sweat. Darkness pressed in on him, suffocating him. Then a familiar laugh made him stop in his tracks.

  “Keely?” He whirled around, but there was no one there. It came again, from another corner of his cell. He spun, trying to catch a glimpse of her.

  “Where are you?” Had Keely come to rescue him? Joy made his heart race.

  He held his breath, desperate to hear her laugh again, and then as the silence stretched out, he realized he was hallucinating. After days of captivity, his mind was beginning to crack. That was what Catriona wanted. To break his spirit. He needed to rest. Get his wits about him.

  He was about to lie down when a flickering image appeared before him. Sam blinked, pinching his arm to see if he was dreaming. A ghostly Keely stood in his cell. She was talking to someone. Leo’s face came into focus next to her. Leo was on horseback. It was like watching a grainy black-and-white movie. Keely smiled up at Leo.

  Leo’s voice was tinny but clear. “I’ll see you soon,” he said. And then Leo leaned down and kissed her.

  Sam’s eyes bulged out, unable to look away. The image shifted, and he saw his friends swimming under an azure sky. Even Howie had joined in the party, letting out a loud whoop. Sam’s heart beat wildly out of control as the movie repeated again and again. Leo kissing Keely. Howie laughing. Acting like they didn’t have a stinking care in the world.

  While he was locked in this hole.

  See how they’ve forgotten you, the voice whispered in his ear. He could almost smell Catriona’s fetid breath.

  “I know you’re doing this!” Sam shouted. “Get out of my head!”

  You are nothing to them.

  Sam knew Catriona was trying to mess with his head, but he couldn’t quell the outrage that rose up in him.

  Because it wasn’t fair. Sam had saved Keely! Saved Leo! Saved everyone! And they just forgot about him like he was yesterday’s newspaper, trash to line a birdcage with.

  He shook himself to clear his mind. “You can’t make me hate them. I won’t let you win.”

  His cell grew quiet, and for a moment, he thought it was over. And then another image flickered to life, this time showing his mother working in the mill back home. She was laughing, going about her work as if her life was perfectly fine.

  Why hasn’t she returned for you? Why has she abandoned you? The voice was a crooning whisper in his head. Even when Sam plugged his ears, the words still got in.

  “She would have come back if she could,” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.

  But she’s a powerful witch . . . the voice answered.

  Sam broke into a sweat. His hands began to shake. Catriona was wrong. Just because Abigail was powerful didn’t mean she could return to Orkney. But was she even trying? Doubt s
eeped into his bones like tiny needles prickling his soul. He tried to calm his breathing, hoping the torment was over, but the sound of another familiar voice began to play.

  Sam slowly raised his head, dreading what he would see. The voice was his father’s, Robert Barconian. He lay on the battlefield, his uniform dusty and bloodied.

  “Why did you free me and let me die?’ he asked, beseeching Sam with one hand. “Why?”

  Sam bit his lip so hard that blood flowed across his tongue like a bitter paste. The image of his father reaching for him played in a cruel loop, and he couldn’t look away. He sank to his knees, wishing it weren’t true. Wishing he could call Catriona out for another lie.

  But he couldn’t.

  Sam was forced to relive the awful guilt that came from knowing he had killed his dad just as surely as if he himself had stuck the blade in. A moan left his lips as rage pounded in his head. Painful, blinding rage. He clutched his temples, writhing in the darkness, until he finally unleashed his scorching pain in a howl so loud it would have split the walls if they hadn’t been hewn from uncaring stone.

  High up in her room, Catriona smiled, watching Sam through her magic glass as he thrashed about, trying to reject the disturbing images in his mind. She let the spiteful thoughts pass softly through her lips . . .

  “Why did you free me then just let me die like that?” she whispered . . . and then watched through the glass as the words reached Sam’s ears, filling his head with poison. Fanning the flames of his rage. Endera had been a fool. The boy was as easy to break as a matchstick.

  He let out a powerful scream, and her glee turned to shock when her precious glass orb cracked down the center, then exploded into a mass of shattered pieces.

  She stood before the pile of broken glass in disbelief. He had destroyed it with only his rage. Then her lips curled into a smile.

  Soon this powerful weapon will belong to me, Catriona gloated.

  A fluttering sound came at her window. A pair of ravens settled onto the ledge, pecking about for food.

  “What news do you bring me, my beauties?” She scooped them up, letting them perch on her shoulder. The glistening black birds jabbered raucously into her ear. She fed them bits of bread from her breakfast as she encouraged them. “Yes, tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me everything.”

  After Ariane’s failure to eliminate the earth children, Catriona had called on one of the many eyes and ears she had planted inside the Orkadian ranks. Her fists closed and constricted as she took in their news. So Odin thought sending the girl to Ymir would help him? That feeble brat was no match for the savage Vanirians. The frost giants would crush her like an insect. Still, Odin did not ordain heroes casually. She would take no chances.

  “Tell the traitor the girl is to be killed,” she instructed her black minions. “She must not be allowed to reach the Cave of Shadows.” She released the birds back into the night.

  She chewed over the ravens’ other bit of news. Odin was sending one of the earth children after a rare prize. The Draupnir cuff. Odin had fashioned it to retrieve his son from the underworld. A tempting artifact to someone who had lost a loved one . . .

  The perfect plot came to a boil in Catriona’s mind. To retrieve the cuff, the boy would have to cross the dire waste-lands to the Falcory lands. Ariane was nearby and could take her revenge out on him for their dear sister Nestra’s death at the hands of the Falcory.

  But she will need help.

  Catriona smiled as she looked out the narrow opening cut into the stone walls. This side of her room overlooked the courtyard. Endera stood talking to a small group, no doubt complaining about how Catriona was running things, seeding her words of discontent.

  The truth was, Endera was more than a little disappointed in how her ambitious plans to free her ancestors had turned out. In her power-addled mind, Endera had thought Catriona would bow to her in gratitude.

  Fool, Catriona scoffed.

  This Volgrim witch was at her peak. Her power was unmatched. Endera could pit the entire coven against Catriona and it would not matter. But a divided coven would prevent them from achieving their ultimate goal. So perhaps a trip away would do Endera good. Some place far from her allies within the coven, chasing after an impossible prize until Catriona had sealed her rule of the Tarkana Fortress. Kill two birds with one stone.

  And it will be all her idea, Catriona plotted.

  She immediately called a meeting of the coven.

  Within an hour, nearly two hundred witches had assembled in the Tarkana Hall in the shadow of the oversized spider. Catriona seated herself on the throne, a replica of her father’s. Once she sealed her rule over the coven, she would rename the place Volgrim Hall. The other witches obediently took their seats around her in their chairs. News of Nestra’s death had spread, casting a pall over the gathering. Beatrixe and Agathea sat close by. Bronte refused to leave her potion-making. The fussy hag was too old to coerce, and Catriona had let it be.

  Endera was joined by her fellow Tarkana witches: the aging Hestera; the young, simpering Lemeria; and a handful of lesser witches who appeared uneasy with the power struggle that gripped the coven.

  Catriona clapped her hands twice to bring the meeting to order. “Sisters, you’ve all heard the tragic news of Nestra’s passing. The inhabitants of this world shall pay dearly for their actions, I assure you. But today I bring ill news of Odin’s interference. The earth children are back from Midgard.”

  There was silence, and then Endera spoke in a bored voice. “The friends of the witch-boy? They are hardly a threat.”

  “Alone, no. But in Odin’s shadow they are to be feared. Ariane was unable to defeat them. Somehow these friends of his summoned wraiths. Even now, the girl makes her way to Rakim to find Ymir.”

  Murmurs of disbelief greeted her words.

  Endera’s eyes narrowed. “She’ll never survive the frost giants. No human can.”

  Catriona suppressed her joy at how easily Endera was led. “Too right, Endera. But just in case you’re wrong, I’ve planted a traitor in her midst.”

  Endera’s eyes grew cold at the inference she might be wrong. But before she could speak, Catriona stood, facing the assembly, her voice booming. “But that is not our only problem. Odin sent one of his heroes to seek a golden cuff. He must be stopped. Ariane is close by, but she could use help.”

  Catriona let her words hang in the silence of the Tarkana Hall. Not one witch uttered a sound.

  But the knuckles on Endera’s hands turned white as she gripped the arms of her chair. “Golden cuff? You don’t mean the Draupnir?”

  Catriona turned her head slowly toward her adversary. “I believe that’s the name, yes. The very same cuff fashioned by Odin to free his son from the underworld.” It was so gratifying to watch Endera’s tortured emotions. She would not be able to pass up the power the cuff offered. Not with her daughter trapped in the underworld, soon to be lost forever. “The Draupnir has been lost for centuries. But if the boy retrieves it, who knows what power these children will gain.”

  “I will go after him,” Endera said, rising. “Ariane can use my help.”

  Catriona concealed her satisfaction. Ariane would redeem her failure to eliminate the earth children by killing Endera long before the upstart made it near the cuff. “Are you sure, Endera? I could use you here.”

  Endera laughed bitterly. “You’ll count every second hoping the Falcory kill me like they did Nestra.”

  Catriona seethed at her cruel jibe. Nestra had been not just her cousin, but also an old and dear friend. “As you wish, Endera. The coven will be ever grateful for your help.”

  Endera rose and began to walk away and then stopped and turned slowly. “What of the other boy, the one they call ‘Howie’?”

  The queen of witches cackled long and hard before answering. “Odin made him Protector of the Realm. The boy is a laughingstock. He will be the first casualty when we ride into Skara Brae and take their capital city.”

&nbs
p; Chapter Fourteen

  Howie stared glumly around the weapons room. The armory consisted of the men’s dining hall, the musty barracks, and this dump, currently piled up with muddy swords and grimy shields. Keely and Leo had barely been gone five minutes, and Howie was so lonely he wanted to howl. He had to pull it together or he was going to sob all over the armor Teren had dumped in his arms. His only companion was Rego’s bird, and so far all Lingas had done was bite him.

  The iolar sat on her perch, watching Howie closely while he hefted a grimy chest plate onto the table and picked up a wire brush, scraping off the mud and grime. He had been given an oversized shirt that hung down to his knees and breeches that were a size too big, but it was a step up from the rather rank and smelly Chuggies uniform.

  “You’ve got it easy, Lingas,” he said. “I mean, you were born a fighting-machine with that beak of yours and those talons. Look what I’ve got,” he indicated his scrawny form. “Not a scrap of muscle.”

  Before Lingas could squawk at him, a man burst into the room, followed closely by two men dressed in black uniforms. These weren’t Orkadian soldiers. They looked like Balfins, the ones that had guarded Howie during his time at the Tarkana Fortress. The man wore a long red robe with heavy gold brocade. His eyes were sharp under thick eyebrows, and a scar ran along one cheek, giving him an air of danger. All told, he reminded Howie of a weasel.

  “What can I do ya for you?” Howie said nonchalantly.

  “Boy, where is Captain Teren?” the man snapped. “I heard a rumor there were outsiders inside the city walls.”

  “The captain is out training the troops, my man. It’s just me here.”

  “My man?” He sauntered closer, eyeing Howie with an appraising look. “It is proper to address me as Lord Orrin. I am the High Regent here. Which you would know if you were from here. What did you say your name was?”

  “Who, me? I’m just the armor-cleaner guy,” Howie said, growing uncomfortable under Orrin’s pinpoint stare. “Just blew into town.”