by Alane Adams
It said nothing. Its eyes were golden with narrow black pupils. It didn’t blink. It slowly ambled forward on its eight legs until it stopped a few feet away.
The ice had reached her waist now. “I know who you are,” she said clearly, remembering the stories Rifkin had told her on the long frosty nights. “You’re Audhumla.”
Audhumla had been a giant cowlike creature that had nursed the creator, Ymir, with milk in the beginning of the world. The eight-legged beast lowered itself to the ground, its head level with Keely’s. Keely looked from one golden eye to the other, trying to think of something that would matter. The ice reached her shoulders. In another minute, she wouldn’t be able to speak or breathe.
“Listen to me. I am a Chosen One. I must see Ymir. Orkney is in danger.”
The ice continued to climb higher. Audhumla appeared indifferent, waiting silent as a sphynx while Keely was slowly encased in an ice-coffin.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she shouted. “The witches have taken my friend. Terrible things are going to happen if I don’t stop them. Ymir can help us. Please, take me to him.”
The creature let out a snort loud as a foghorn. Vapor steamed from its nostrils, sending a rolling gray mist across the chamber to the icy blue wall. Splotches of black ink pooled and took shadow forms and began acting out a scene. There were three young men in silhouette. They rose up with spears to attack a larger man with a crown on his head.
This was the day Ymir had been killed, Keely realized, remembering Rifkin’s story. These were his sons rising up against him. Odin, Vili, and Vi, killing him with their long spears, then throwing his bones into this cavern, into a large pool. The shadow of an eight-legged beast wept next to the pool, crying huge fat tears into the pond.
“Bad things happened,” Keely said. “Ymir was betrayed by his own sons. But you helped him create this world, Audhumla. You can’t want to see it destroyed.”
Treacherous ice reached her chin. It was getting hard to breathe. Cold filled her bones. Audhumla did nothing, just watched her with wary curiosity. There was nothing more Keely could say. The ice rose higher, sealing off her nostrils, covering her eyes, and encasing her completely.
There was no air. Ice pressed in on her. She couldn’t even struggle. It was like being encased in cement, but she could still see Audhumla’s golden eyes watching her. This was it. She was going to end up a Popsicle. And then her survival instincts kicked in. Don’t give up, Keely, she told herself. Fight it. You had enough magic to get in here. To start a fire. So use it.
Mavery had said magic was needing something and believing it can happen. Right now, Keely needed a miracle. She concentrated on her fingers, remembering the sensation of starting the fire. A tiny tingle in the tips gave her hope. She concentrated harder, willing herself to heat up. Warm sparks shot through her bloodstream. The ice cracked, spreading tiny fissures like spider veins. She doubled her efforts, putting everything she had into it until the ice shattered into crystals. Keely staggered, dragging air into her lungs, feeling weak relief.
The beast blinked in surprise, then lumbered forward. Keely scrambled back, not ready for another attack, when its tongue lolled out and it lapped the girl, spreading thick saliva on her. The tongue was rough and prickly, but it made Keely warm up instantly.
The creature lapped Keely’s face and her shoulder where she had been grazed with the arrow. A tingling feeling shot through Keely’s body. The saliva smelled like dog breath, but it was healing her. Audhumla slurped at her knee, taking the swelling and the pain away with every lick.
Keely reached a tentative hand out to touch Audhumla’s nose. “Hey.”
Audhumla let out a blaring bleat in response, shaking the walls of the cave.
Keely flinched at the loudness, but then smiled. “You’re not so scary once you stop freezing me to death. I think I’ll call you Auddie.” She looked around the cavern, searching for the source of the light, but it was as if the moon’s reflection had been captured by the pond and held there forever. Auddie nudged Keely with its shaggy head toward the water.
She took a step forward. As she reached the edge, the water steamed and churned. Out of the center of the lake, a figure rose up. It was a man. A Vanir. He was as broad-shouldered as the ones Keely had seen. He wore a brown toga of soft leather. White hair grew to his shoulders. A crown of green leaves rimmed his head. He glided across the surface toward her.
“A visitor,” he said with a touch of surprise, covering a slight yawn as though he had been awakened from a long nap. “I have not had one of those in eons.”
“My name is Keely Hatch,” she answered, hardly believing this was really Ymir. “I am from Midgard.”
He studied her closely as he joined her on the shore. His eyes were a kaleidoscope of blue and green and gold. “An earth child who has Eifalian blood. How fascinating. What do you ask of the creator?”
“Orkney needs your help. My friend, Sam, has been taken by the witches. He’s a powerful he-witch, the first in a long time. The witches are trying to turn him against Orkney. We can’t let that happen.”
“I fear you are too late.” Ymir’s face saddened as he waved a hand over the water. An image of Sam in black armor reflected on the surface. His face was angry and twisted as he thrust a knife into a giant bear’s chest.
Keely gasped in horror. “No.” She was speechless. Vor’s words to Leo rang in her ears: One of our own will be taken.
What has Sam done? And then another thought punched her in the gut: Is it too late to save him?
For a moment, Keely felt all hope leave her. What was she supposed to do now? If Sam had really done this, then Catriona had already won. But something inside her refused to give up. She might be too late to stop them from turning Sam, but she could still prevent Catriona from getting everything she wanted. “Sam would never hurt Brunin. Not willingly. He’s a true Son of Odin. But Catriona is going to use him to return her magic to earth so she can destroy everything Odin cares about, including mankind. I have to stop her. When I drank from Mimir’s well, I saw a pearl shining in this pond.”
Ymir’s eyebrows shot up. “Ah, you seek the Moon Pearl.” He studied the glowing image of the moon on the water. “You know, when I created this world, the sun got all the attention. Without it, humankind couldn’t exist, but what of the moon? It serves no purpose but as a thing of beauty. You can look at it as long as you want.” Ymir spoke wistfully, a small smile on his face.
Keely’s mind was racing. “I thought it was the key to saving Sam, but maybe it’s the key to stopping Catriona. Will you let me have it?” She waited, fingers crossed.
Ymir folded his arms. “The Moon Pearl contains the essence of my heart. I require something of equal value in return.”
Keely’s brain sputtered as she tried to think, but her possessions were meager as a beggar’s. “I have nothing to give. I already cut my hair to gain wisdom.”
Ymir’s eyes probed her, glinting with sudden interest. “What I seek is not gold or silver, but far more precious. A secret chipped from the depths of your soul. What do you hide from the world? Only then can I judge your worthiness.”
“I . . .” Keely tried and failed to speak. She wanted to deny she had a secret, but it sat there, lodged in her chest like a tumor. Ymir continued to look at her with those patient eyes of his, as if he already knew the truth, the same way King Einolach had looked at her. Maybe it was time.
Words tumbled out. “I tell everyone my mom died of a brain tumor, but it’s a lie. It’s my fault she’s dead. She forgot to pick up my English project from the printer. I’d spent weeks on it, and it was due the next day.” She saw herself yelling at her mom, who had one hand to her temple like she was in pain. “She had a headache. She got them a lot.”
“Go on,” Ymir said gently.
Keely shook her head, feeling the guilt sting every cell in her body. “She wanted to lie down and rest, but I threw a fit. No way Keely Hatch was going to get marked down a gra
de,” she mocked as scalding tears rolled down her cheeks. “It was raining outside. Her car . . . it slid off the road into a ditch. She didn’t survive.”
“It seems an accident, was it not?”
Keely raised her eyes to Ymir. “Don’t you get it? She wouldn’t have even been out there if it weren’t for me. She just wanted to rest, but no, I had to get my A. She was always forgetting things. It wasn’t until after . . . that they discovered the tumor. They think it’s the reason she lost control—but it’s still my fault—”
Ymir interrupted with a gentle wave of his hand. “Death is inevitable. Have you considered she was spared the unnecessary pain of a long illness?”
Keely stared at him. The doctors had said almost the same thing, but Keely had never believed it.
Ymir put a hand on her shoulder. “You must learn to let go of the guilt or it will eat at your soul. Only then will you be worthy of the Moon Pearl.”
Something in Keely’s chest eased. Just saying the words out loud had suddenly made them less powerful, less painful.
“I swear I am ready. I can do this,” she said with more confidence than she had ever felt before, but Ymir still appeared troubled.
“The Moon Pearl may help you with your friend, but surely you have bigger problems.”
Keely frowned. “What do you mean?”
He sat down on a small rounded stone and motioned for her to sit across from him. “You have broken the treaty that kept peace between the Vanir and the Eifalians.”
“But I haven’t done anything.”
“The treaty they signed was blood sacred. No Vanir has stepped south of the Skoll Mountains in ten centuries, and no Eifalian has traveled north. By coming here, you have violated that agreement.”
Keely was getting tired of explaining she couldn’t possibly be an Eifalian. “I told you, I’m from Midgard—”
He raised a finger at her. “Only the Eifalians have the magic to pierce the veil that seals my home. Audhumla was confused, sensing you were not as you appeared; it’s why she acted to protect me. But you surprised her with your magic. Deny it all you wish, but you are their enemy.”
Ymir waved his hand across the water, and a new vision began to play.
Men on horseback were mounting up and rallying with swords and deafening shouts. A battle raged, and the Eifalians died in droves as the Vanir ran them down with long spears. Then the vision shifted, and Keely saw the Vanir being killed by the Eifalian defenses. It was terrible. This was the start of the war she had seen in her vision at Mimir’s well, but she now felt the horror of being the cause of it.
“I did this?” she whispered.
“It is one outcome. You have given both races an excuse to act on the hatred that has festered all these years.”
“I can explain to them. They will have to listen. You can make them.”
“That is not in my power. But . . . I have something that might help.”
Ymir reached into his toga and withdrew a small flute carved out of several small bones lashed together. He ran his lips across the openings, and a beautiful sound filled the cave.
“Give this to the king who leads the Vanir. His name is Joran. Show no one else. Tell him, what is lost can be found. If he is the man I think he is, he will know what it means.”
“And if he doesn’t listen?”
Ymir put his hand to Keely’s face and cupped her cheek. “Then your journey may end with your death.”
She nodded as she stood, taking the flute and tucking it safely inside her shirt next to her heart. “What about the pearl?”
“You will find it where your guilt once was.”
Keely reached into her chest pocket and felt a small bulge. Her fingers closed around the round, cool surface of the pearl nestled close to her heart.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes shining.
The eight-legged beast shuffled closer, waiting to take her back up to the surface.
She grabbed a fistful of Auddie’s fur and then paused. Ymir stood by the pond. He looked wistful, as if he didn’t want her to leave yet. “Can I ask another favor?” she asked.
“What is it?”
“If I don’t make it back, can you let my dad know that it’s okay? He shouldn’t have to suffer anymore. He doesn’t deserve that.”
He thought about it a moment and then nodded. “I will see what I can do. Take care, young Keely.”
As Ymir walked back across the water, he began to sink until the pond sealed up over him. The surface remained still and calm. The reflection of the moon was gone, Keely realized.
She took a deep breath.
Outside the cave, the Vanir would be waiting. It was time to rescue Mavery and Galatin and get back to saving Sam.
Auddie gave her a ride to the entrance of the cave. Keely slid off its back and rubbed its long snout. The creature nuzzled Keely, butting her with its furred head.
“I’ll miss you too, Auddie.” Keely planted a kiss between its eyes. On the icy wall, her shadow reappeared, waving goodbye. Keely waved back and then walked through the wall of mist that separated the cave from the outside world.
As soon as she stepped outside, Auddie disappeared. The entrance was dark and unreadable. Keely turned around and saw a ring of warriors waiting for her at the top, swords drawn. At her feet, she spied Rifkin’s blade. It wasn’t enough to stop the horde of frost giants that awaited, but she lifted it anyway. Then she took a deep breath, pasting on her best smile, and waved the sword.
“Hey there, I’m Keely.”
They didn’t smile back. Didn’t move. Just watched as she hiked up the small hill to where they waited.
“I demand to see your leader, Joran, right now,” she said, boldly holding the sword out in front of her.
They started laughing. Her feet went out from under her, and she found herself swept up behind a horse, tied over the end of it like a sack of potatoes. A bag was thrown over her head, blocking out the world.
At least they hadn’t killed her on the spot.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bouncing around on the back of the frost giant’s horse, Keely had plenty of time to think about what awaited her once they arrived in Galas. Mavery and Galatin might not even be alive. Hope and despair seesawed her emotions as she waited in agony to see what her fate would be. Finally, there was a change in the sound the horses made, like they were clattering on stone. Chains clanked loudly, like something was being lowered, and then the hooves pounded on wood.
They must be entering the capital. Galas.
The horses finally came to a stop. Someone whipped Keely’s hood off. She blinked in the sudden glare of sunlight. They were in a large open-air arena carved from blocks of warm sandstone. The stadium looked like it could hold a thousand people. The seats were filled with a sea of faces, mostly bearded and fierce as her captors. Snow crusted a muddy field. Keely’s boots sank in, squelching with each step as she was frog-marched to a raised platform in the center. It was made of rough wooden planks. At the top, a man knelt, his hands tied behind him. His head hung down despondently.
Galatin.
Next to him was the tiny figure of Mavery. Even though Keely was thrilled to see them alive, she worried it wouldn’t be for long. This looked an awful lot like a gallows. The giant standing with a large double-bladed axe in his meaty hands looked an awful lot like an executioner.
Keely’s feet didn’t want to move, but a frost giant dragged her up the stairs and threw her down next to Mavery. Guilt flooded her as Mimir’s vision came back to haunt her, the one of Mavery’s head on a chopping block. So far, she had failed miserably at stopping the terrible future she had witnessed.
Mavery’s lips trembled as she stared at Keely, but she didn’t speak. The girl seemed too terrified to open her mouth.
“Hey, it’s okay. We’re going to figure this out,” Keely said, even though the sight of that axe made her knees turn to jelly.
At her voice, Galatin turned to look at her.
His face was bruised and bloody. He looked defeated. As if all hope had been drained from him.
Drums sounded. Banging loudly like impending doom.
Across from the platform, a blood-red canopy covered a raised dais that gave a bird’s-eye view of the arena. Two thrones that looked like they were carved from gold were positioned in the center. Behind them an array of padded chairs sat in a line. That must be the VIP section. A purple banner hung down with the symbol of a bear chasing the tail of another. A group of frost giants filed in, solemnly filling the row of seats. They wore fur-skin cloaks, but their chests were bare.
A brutish soldier stepped out onto the arena ground and blew on a large carved horn, blasting a long and low sound.
The crowd rose to their feet, growing silent as they waited.
A lone fly buzzed in Keely’s ear. She focused on her surroundings, trying to think of a way out of this. Like Skara Brae, Galas was built into the side of a cliff above the ocean. Where Skara Brae was built of gray stone, the Vanir used a caramel-colored sandstone to construct their towering edifices. Their construction was square and massive like the people themselves. There was very little color besides the purple banners that rimmed the arena. Far below, the sea sent whitecaps crashing against the rocks. What she wouldn’t give to be on a raft, sailing away.
The roaring of the crowd had her turning back. A giant of a man with a crown of leaves similar to Ymir’s came out with a woman on his arm. He was even taller than the others, with an air of power about him.
He must be the one. Joran. The ruler of the Vanir.
Joran raised his hand, briefly acknowledging the cheering throng. The drums stopped, and the assembly of frost giants sat down. Joran appeared bored. Uninterested. He spoke to the woman next to him. Someone handed him a goblet. He drank it down in one gulp and handed it back to be refilled. The woman had long brown hair braided in a coil around her head. She was nearly as tall as he was, though lithe and clothed in a fine gown of shimmering yellow silk.
The black-hooded Vanir used his boot to thrust a heavy chopping block in front of Galatin. In his hands, he held a huge double-headed axe. He swung it once around his head, flexing his muscles.
