The Legends of Orkney

by Alane Adams

  Reaching for the cuff.

  Whenever a hand would touch the golden band, a shock zinged to his heart, as if he had been stabbed with an icicle. Leo learned to pull away before they touched him. It was like they could sense the power of the Draupnir.

  Leo focused on thinking of a way out of this mess, but so far his brain had come up with nothing useful. Every so often smaller dark tunnels led off to the side. Each time, Endera paused, considering, as if she were listening for something, and then she would continue on.

  “She’s not in there,” she would announce. “Keep moving.”

  They continued on like this for an hour, stopping, listening, and searching. It was hard to breathe the musty moldering air. Escape seemed less and less likely the further they descended. After another slimy hand reached for him, Leo wearily asked, “If these creatures are dead, how is it they seem alive?”

  Endera’s words came slowly, as if she herself were feeling the effects of the underworld. “Death in our world . . . is a matter of stages. Creatures with powerful magic . . . they linger, clinging to this life as their magic drains away. Until the last drop is gone . . . they can be brought back.” Her back straightened, and her pace picked up as if she realized what she had said. “Hurry up, we don’t have a moment to waste.”

  Leo wanted to argue that he had no reason to hurry to his own death, but he couldn’t stand the idea of being left alone in this earthen mausoleum, and so he followed her.

  After an endless descent, they came around a bend into a large cavern. An enormous pool of water occupied the center bordered by a raised stone ledge. A triangle of crystals embedded in the ceiling glowed with a yellowish light.

  “Here,” Endera announced.

  The water was cast in a yellowish glow. Under the surface, dark figures swam by, drifting in an eternal current. When the underground figures saw Leo and Endera, they wailed, silent mouths open. Leo stood transfixed, looking at the faces. They were begging to get out, pounding their hands against the invisible barrier as if it were a solid wall before being tugged away by the relentless current.

  “How will you find her?” Leo asked.

  “I have a piece of her I keep close. I am hoping it will help draw her to the surface.” She lifted a heavy silver locket from around her neck that had been hidden by her dress. Opening it, she withdrew a tiny lock of hair and rubbed it between her fingers, dropping the fine strands on the water. She drew her hands in a circle over the surface.

  Leo watched as a gray mist rose up, churning the water. Endera murmured strange words. Electricity crackled, making the hair on Leo’s head stand up. Nothing happened. Endera stood poised. Minutes passed. He shifted on his feet, wondering what Endera would do if they didn’t find Perrin. Would she lead him back to the surface? Or leave him here?

  Then, like the strike of a rattlesnake, her hand went in and she grabbed one of the swimmers.

  A dark wet head appeared above the water. Endera pulled, but the head didn’t rise more than a few inches before sinking down again, as if being dragged back by a strong current. Here was his chance. Endera leaned precariously over the edge. One shove and she would be in the pool with the swirling dead. Leo raised his hand, taking a step forward, but Endera turned, her face a raw mask of pain. “Help me,” she pleaded.

  Leo teetered. Endera looked human, almost vulnerable. The object of her efforts, a dark-haired girl, screamed, her eyes wild and unfocused. This must be her daughter, Perrin.

  Endera strained to pull the girl out, but she couldn’t manage more than an inch or two before Perrin was tugged back down. Endera’s shoulders hunched in defeat. “Please, I can’t do it alone.”

  It was the last thing Leo wanted to do, but the girl looked so pitiful, he couldn’t say no. Leo reached in and tugged on Perrin, getting one hand under her arm. He ignored the swarm of hands that grabbed at him, pulling him in.

  Using his feet as leverage, he pulled upward until the girl’s shoulders rose above the water. With one last tug, Perrin broke free, landing on the stone with a squelching burp.

  The pale-skinned girl lay curled up on the ground, skin tinged blue. Her black garb clung to her. She was shivering and crying all at once. Endera covered Perrin with her cloak, and then the witch cradled the girl tightly in her arms.

  “Mother, what are you doing here?” she said, dazedly looking around. “I was somewhere else. Where is this place?”

  “Hush, Perrin. Everything’s okay now.” Endera’s voice was husky with emotion.

  But Perrin’s eyes darkened. “No, it’s not. Where are we? Mother, are we dead?”

  “We are in the underworld,” Endera said, tucking the girl’s hair gently behind her ears. “But we are not dead.”

  “But I was dead,” Perrin whispered.

  Endera shook her head. “The Gungnir could not take your life. Not fully. You were not the intended target. So put it out of your mind. We leave now.” She helped the girl upright. Perrin was shaky, but she kept her feet under her.

  Leo looked back at the faces in the pool. They were enraged because one of their own had escaped. They pounded on the surface with angry fists. What now? he wondered. How were they going to get out of there, the three of them, when the cuff would only allow two?

  Endera put her hand on Leo’s shoulder.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you for helping me get my daughter back.”

  It felt good. Saving the girl. Perrin must have been important for Odin to send Leo here. He had a moment’s hope it was all going to work out. That being the Sacrifice didn’t mean he had to endure a terrible fate. Maybe Endera had a scrap of humanity in her. A clever way to beat the rules that bound the cuff.

  But he quickly found out that Endera was the same evil witch she had always been.

  “Tragic, isn’t it?” Endera said as they watched the faces plead for mercy.

  Leo nodded.

  “Pity you must join them.”

  The witch pushed Leo hard, sending him sprawling. His knees hit the edge of the pool. He flailed his arms, trying to stop his fall. With her other hand, she sent a blast of green fire at the Draupnir. The cuff glowed red hot, searing his skin before loosening its grip on Leo’s bicep. She grabbed it with both hands, sliding it down his arm as Leo lost the battle for balance and fell forward into the pool.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Balfin ship was sleek and fast. In two days, Sam and his monstrous crew of Balfins had circled the seas around Garamond, but they weren’t any closer to finding their destination: Odin’s secret lair. Frustration made him want to tear a hole in the sky. They were wasting time. Every moment of delay was a moment Keely and the others were still in danger. Standing in the bow of the ship, Sam held the ancient navigation device up to the sun, cursing its lack of movement.

  “Useless!” he said, throwing it against the gunwales. How had he made it work before? His mind was blank. Where was Mavery when he needed her?

  The heavy armor he wore chafed at his joints. Catriona had outfitted him with the uniform of the Black Guard. Wearing the armor felt like its own betrayal. His heavy leather chest plate was adorned with silver fittings. The boots he wore were tall and well-made. Armguards laced around his forearms, embellished with sharp metal studs. Part of him wanted to rip it all off and toss it into the sea, but another part secretly enjoyed the power he wielded.

  The brutish captain, steering steadily into the wind, grunted in surprise as the compass bounced off the wood and rolled back across the deck to stop at his boots.

  “Give up?” he growled hopefully.

  “No!” Sam shouted, seething with frustration that he, the most powerful he-witch alive, couldn’t even break the small bronze-and-glass object. Furious, he snatched up the hateful thing and hurled it overboard as far as he could.

  The compass swung in an arc, spinning wildly, and then boomeranged right back at him, bouncing onto the deck of the ship. Sam picked it up, looking hopefully over its weathered face. The ne
edle lay motionless. Despair swamped him. Would he fail at finding Odin? Fail at saving his friends? Was all of this for nothing?

  A sudden wind blew across the prow, sweeping across the sea and gathering a cloud of mist that hovered, green and opaque over the ship. Catriona’s face appeared. “You waver,” she screeched, her lips curled in contempt. “Use your magic. The dark magic I gifted you with. Break Odin’s grip over the compass, or I will kill your friends myself!” The cloud burst into a spray of water that stung Sam’s cheeks.

  Sam straightened. He didn’t want to tap into the magic Catriona had unlocked. It was too potent. Too addictive. It burned in his veins. He was afraid that if he let himself use it, he would enjoy it too much. He wouldn’t be able to stop. He would truly become Kalifus.

  He stared at the lifeless compass. He would have to risk it.

  Holding the brass object up, he passed his hand over it, opening himself up to the new language that carried across the seas to his ear. Unfamiliar words that fueled him with a swell of power.

  “Mordera saxus, mordera locus.”

  For several moments, the sea seemed to go quiet. The crew stopped their various duties, muttering nervously in their crude language. Suddenly, a blinding green flash of light enshrouded the compass, raising it off Sam’s palm and turning it into a glowing orb. The Balfins watched in awe as the compass spun in a circle. The green glow intensified, and the compass spun faster.

  Sam kept up the chant, repeating the four magical words like a litany, feeling a surge in power from within. Catriona’s ritual had ignited the dark magic in him, and the stuff was potent. He could feel it changing him further, like a dial being ratcheted up three notches. The venom in him merged with the elemental magic that poured out into his chant, increasing its power.

  The green energy extended from the compass to his hand and up his arm, through his armor, spreading into his chest. As the power surged through him, he shouted in exhilaration and threw the device into the air. At its peak, brilliant green light exploded in every direction like a fireworks display. The crew ducked as a shower of sparks fell on the deck. The compass landed with a thud, smoking and glowing.

  Sam strode over and cautiously lifted it. The orb was surprisingly cool to the touch. Confidence surged in him as he studied it. The needle had finally changed direction. It now pointed at the symbol of an upside-down pitchfork, the symbol of Asgard.

  “Captain!” Sam shouted with a grin, “We have our course.”

  The Balfins erupted in cheers, hooting and hollering in triumph. But within hours of their new heading, the seas grew heavy, slopping over the sides of the ship. As the wind howled, the crew dropped a sail to keep from turning over. Rain lashed the boat. It was as if Odin sensed he was coming and was driving him away.

  Sam would not be deterred. Not by a little weather. While the crew huddled cowardly below, Sam stood in the bow, relishing the harsh ocean spray on his face. Time and again, Asgard changed locations, and each time, the compass vibrated in his hand and he shouted new directions to the captain.

  The elements continued to worsen. Jagged lightning lit up the sky, striking within meters of the boat, lighting up the water. Once Sam thought he saw the shadowy outlines of an island, but then it vanished. They were getting closer, he told himself, clutching the compass tighter. His eyes never left the needle as he focused all his energy on hunting Odin down.

  And then with a sudden shift, the seas calmed. The clouds parted, revealing a bright sun as if the storm had never been. Asgard rose from the sea, sparkling in the daylight. Sam recognized the outline of the island immediately. Checking to see his blade was in place on his hip, he climbed into a dinghy. As the crew rowed him to shore, nervous excitement bubbled in his veins.

  He was back on Asgard. What would Odin do when Sam stood before him, armed with the ancient magic of his ancestors? Would he recognize the change in him? Sam was no longer that weak, scared little boy Odin had given his Fury to. He had tremendous power running through his veins. Odin would have to hear him out. He would make the god listen.

  Sam jumped out in a foot of water before they had even beached the boat, and he stalked up the sand toward the dense fog bank, shouting at the captain to wait for him over his shoulder.

  The captain’s garbled voice stopped him at the edge of the jungle.

  “How long?” he grunted.

  Sam turned slowly. “Until I return,” he said icily.

  The captain looked uneasy, as if the place scared the pants off him. “And if . . . no return?”

  There was no thought to his action. Power lurched in his veins. Sam strode the four steps to the boat, splashing angrily through the water to grab the captain by his ugly throat. “I. Will. Return. Do you hear me?” His voice spoke of the terrible things he would do to the captain if he did not obey. Whose voice was that? he wondered vaguely, as the captain nodded rapidly, his inhuman face suddenly frightened. Mine or Kalifus’s?

  Without another word, Sam left the crew and entered through the fog into Odin’s realm.

  He took in a deep breath and realized how much lighter he felt. The familiar jungle foliage tempted him to lower his guard with its lush plants, exploding with color. Purple flowers on stalks as tall as he. Orange and pink blossoms the size of basketballs. A songbird jumped on a low branch and sang a trilling melody, but Sam recognized its poisonous feathers. Last time it had embedded painful hooks in his skin. He sent a satisfying blast of witchfire at it, incinerating it on the spot.

  He headed for the Yggdrasil tree. This time it was not hidden from him. Its bristling green branches towered from a distance. Jumping over logs and crossing streams, Sam kept at a relentless pace.

  When he finally reached the base of the trunk, Sam came face-to-face with the giant snake that guarded the sacred tree. The reptile’s fat coils wrapped several times around the trunk, yellow and red scales gleaming under the sun.

  “You little thief,” it hissed, raising its head to dart its tongue at the human who had stolen the Horn of Gjall. “You dare to return to thisss place?”

  Sam had no time to argue with a snake, even if it was Odin’s guardian. “I dare because I am a Son of Odin and I need to see him. Let me pass, or I’ll show you a taste of my new power.” He held out his hands, palms up, and two green flaming orbs appeared over them. “One for each eye.”

  The snake continued to glare at him, its tongue slithering in and out before it answered. “Odin sssaid you would come. He awaits you.”

  Sam felt a stab of surprise. How did Odin know he was coming?

  “Then get out of my way,” he snapped, closing his palms. He stepped arrogantly up the snake’s coils and lifted himself into the tree, climbing rapidly. Halfway up, sweating from the weight of his armor, Sam stopped to catch his breath. He caught sight of a pair of golden eyes glowing at him from a hollowed knothole in the tree. He leaned forward, searching the dark.

  “Ratatosk?” he called, feeling a slice of fond memory. The squirrel had been a welcoming friend last time he had visited.

  The golden eyes blinked at him, but there was no answer. Like the creature had somehow judged his character and found him wanting. Anger rippled through him.

  Stupid squirrel.

  Like Sam had ever had a choice since the day he had discovered his ordinary life back in Pilot Rock was one big fat lie. His destiny had been drawn out before he was born. Sam moved on, continuing his climb. The tree’s leaves felt different this time— brittle, as if the branches were sickly.

  Near the top, he could see the eagle sitting on the highest branch, sunning itself in the golden rays. He paused on the same branch he had stood on when Odin had given him his Fury. How long ago that seemed now.

  “Odin,” he called. “It’s me, Sam Baron.” He almost choked on his name. He repeated it again, to ensure Odin heard him. “Come on, Odin, Sam Baron. ’Member me? Robert Barconian’s son? I really need to speak to you.”

  The eagle turned its gaze down at him for on
e long moment. Its topaz blue eyes blinked one time, and then the bird returned its attention to the sun.

  Stunned at his dismissal, Sam shook the branch hard. “Odin, knock it off! Stop playing this stupid game. Did you really send Keely to the Vanir? You know she won’t survive. And Leo, he’s going to die in that underworld thanks to you.”

  Still, the god-bird acted as if Sam were invisible.

  Sam climbed higher, determined to get Odin’s attention. As he neared the top, he balanced carefully on a slender limb. “Look, just talk to me. Why would you put Howie in charge of Skara Brae? He can’t even stand up for himself, let alone an entire city. The witches will destroy him. It’s like you want my friends to fail.”

  The bird shook out its feathers but didn’t transform back into the god Sam so desperately needed to talk to.

  Infuriated, Sam stretched, reaching for the eagle’s scaly legs. “You will talk to me!” he shouted. As his hands touched the pebbled skin, the branch gave way, snapping with a loud crack and sending him tumbling through the tree, bouncing from limb to limb.

  Branches shattered as he landed on them, bruising his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. If not for his armor, he would have broken several bones. He hit the ground with a thud and went out like a light.

  When he came to, Sam was engulfed by darkness. Groaning, he hauled his battered body upright. If Odin thought he was going to play his miserable mind games again, he was mistaken. “Odin!” he shouted as he stood up. “I demand to see you.”

  Silence. A fine tremor ran through Sam. He hated the darkness. He had spent enough of his life as a prisoner in Catriona’s cell. Did Odin know that? Was he taking great satisfaction in using Sam’s hatred of it now against him?

  He drew his hands in a circle and cried out, “Mordera luma,” calling a ball of light to his palm, illuminating his surroundings. He was in a cave. The ceiling had a familiar white lightning bolt etched into the rock. Sam remembered the rune stone the dwarf Rego had once given him.