The Legends of Orkney

by Alane Adams

  The Balfins began to panic as the arrows found their targets and dozens fell to the ground. The rest tried to flee, but the farmer squad, led by Milligan and Selina, had erected barricades at every exit. They began pelting the Balfins with rocks, jabbing at them with pitchforks if they came too close. Galatin lent his sword to the fight, making sure none of the apish creatures breached the barriers.

  Abigail and Perrin added fierce witchfire, blanketing the intruders with blasts that sent them spinning through the air. Even Mavery helped with tiny bursts.

  Keely’s heart swelled with hope. Things were going well. There was an aura of defeat in the Balfin rank as more and more of them fell to the ground. And then one of the Balfin apes boasting a tall silver helmet grunted loudly in a guttural language, brandishing his sword. He had an air of authority about him. On his command, Balfins began scaling the inner walls to get to the archers. Abigail and Perrin knocked them down with witchfire, but they kept coming. Helmet-head led a pack of soldiers for the stairs that led to the ramparts. One by one his consorts fell, but he urged more of them on. Gael’s men were too busy fighting the ones breaching the walls to deal with this new attack.

  Keely braced herself, with Leo and Jey on either side, as the silver-helmeted leader burst onto the rampart. Lingas squawked ferociously in her cage, batting her wings at the door to get out. Ape-man’s face was drawn into a snarl. Tusks jutted up from his lower jaw as he screamed gibberish at them, spraying them with spittle. His eyes were red under heavy lids. Sparse hair covered his face and his head.

  Before Keely could release an arrow, Jey shouted, foolishly running headlong at the helmeted Balfin with only a hunting knife in his hand. The Balfin threw the boy into the rampart wall with one swing of his meaty paw like Jey was made of paper. The boy crumpled to the ground.

  Helmet-head roared, throwing his head back with triumph, and then swung a mace in a circle, aiming straight for Leo and Keely.

  While Balfins poured through the open gate, Captain Teren ordered his group to move in closer, crawling on their bellies. Sam and Howie were sandwiched between Rego and Teren.

  Teren turned to them, speaking in a whisper. “Howie, with me, I’ll need that sword to watch my back. Rego, you keep an eye on Sam. Be ready on my command.”

  When the gate slammed shut, they leaped up in a single line and charged forward.

  “This one’s for Tiber!” Teren shouted, cleaving the first Balfin with his sword.

  They had the benefit of surprise and managed to break through the ranks. Sam fought alongside Rego, admiring how the dwarf made mincemeat of the Balfins he faced. His arm never seemed to tire. Howie was like a wild man, swinging that powerful golden sword of his like he had been practicing his whole life, mowing down every ape-man that got close. Heppner and Speria fought side by side, bantering and bragging to each other over who was the better swordsman. Sam added his witchfire to the attack, pleased at how long he was able to sustain his magic.

  A pair of apes came at Rego from behind. Sam blasted the first one, sending it spinning. The other one carried an axe it swung at Rego’s head. Sam tried to send another blast, but he tripped over a sneevil that tried to gore his leg. He turned his witchfire on the beast and then looked up, sure Rego was going to be skewered, but the dwarf had impaled the beast by thrusting his sword behind him without even looking. He winked at Sam and lifted him to his feet.

  “Got to have eyes in the back of your head. Keep your wits about you.”

  Sam grinned. This was working. The Balfins were getting nervous as Teren’s line of Orkadian soldiers mowed through the ranks. For a moment, it seemed as if they had a chance, but a fresh wave of Balfins swarmed over them, separating their line. Sam lost sight of Rego. He saw two Orkadian soldiers go down, unable to help them in time. He was all alone, surrounded by sneering mutated Balfins. He swung his rock and pushed them away with magic, blasting them when they got close, but more kept coming.

  Vena was doing this. He had to get to her. Stop her.

  He fought his way across the battlefield, searching for her tall figure.

  The crack of the whip and smell of sulfur led him to her.

  “Vena, Catriona is gone. Stop this!” Sam shouted.

  Venomous rage made Vena’s face purple. “Then I will finish this in her name.”

  She snapped her whip over his head, lashing at him. Sam ducked and rolled, coming face-to-face with a sneevil. He quickly rolled again and came up behind Vena. Only Vena had moved. When he reached for her, he found only air. Confused, he turned and saw her standing behind him, a devilish smile on her face. In her hand, she held one of the Balfin’s curved blades.

  “And now, witch-boy, the last hope of Orkney will fall under my blade.” She lunged forward, aiming the tip of the blade for Sam’s gut.

  As the barbed end of the mace came swinging toward her head, Keely arched back, touching one hand to the ground. Leo spun on his heels, ducking out of the way. When Keely rose, she had an arrow nocked in her bow, same as Leo. In tandem, they fired, burying a twin set of arrows in helmet-head’s chest. He reeled backward, eyes wide with shock, flailing his arms. He knocked over the cage that held Lingas and then crashed to the stone.

  Lingas broke free, arrowing for the sky.

  The Balfin apes behind helmet-head stopped in their tracks, staring at their leader in confusion. Leo and Keely used the moment to run at them, shaking their bows in their faces. The Balfins turned and ran, scrambling down the steps and making a run for the gate.

  Galatin reeled up the gate as a stream of Balfins fled the square and ran for their lives. The farmers broke from their hiding positions behind the barriers and began chasing them. Gael’s archers continued to fire at them as they fled.

  Leo hurried to Jey’s crumpled form, but Keely cast a worried glance over the battlefield. Where were Sam and Howie?

  Sam’s life flashed before his eyes. He saw the glint of the tip about to enter his guts when someone tackled him and knocked him to the side.

  Howie lay on top of him, eyes shining behind his glasses. “I got this, bro.”

  Before Sam could argue, Howie was up, pointing his golden sword at Vena. “Looks like it’s you and me, witchy-poo.”

  Vena grinned at Howie, an evil look in her eyes. She thrust forward with the blade. Sam could hardly believe his eyes as Howie neatly parried and pivoted around her like a gymnast. He blocked her thrust and then brought his sword up and into her belly before she knew what was happening. Her eyes widened with shock. The curved blade slipped out of her hand. Then she fell backward onto the battlefield with Howie’s sword embedded in her. The golden sword shot out beams of light in every direction before disappearing in a blinding shower of golden sparks. Howie stood over her, eyes fierce as he locked gazes with Sam. “Friends stand together,” he said, “to the end.”

  Out of nowhere, a Balfin ogre charged Howie, taking him down like a linebacker. The ape-man was familiar. Sam recognized Sigmund, the one that always stayed by Vena’s side. Sigmund howled with grief. He wrapped meaty fists around Howie’s throat, trying to choke the life out of him. Before Sam could blast him off Howie, a bird dropped like a rock from the sky and attacked Sigmund, biting and clawing at the ape-man’s head. He swatted it, knocking the bird to the ground, and went back to choking Howie.

  An arrow zinged over Sam’s shoulder and pierced the hulking Sigmund through the heart. The Balfin toppled off Howie with a resounding thud.

  Sam turned to find Keely standing fifty feet away, coolly nocking another arrow.

  A horn sounded, piercing the air with a long low blast. Every Balfin ape paused, turning to see what the noise was. Along the edge of the forest, a great army appeared. Half-naked men on horseback. Correction: huge half-naked men on really big horses. They blew their horn again and then stampeded across the valley. Sam didn’t know if they were good guys or bad guys, but as they ran down the Balfins, it became clear they were fighting for Orkney.

  “What did I mis
s?” Howie said woozily as Sam helped him to his feet. Lingas squawked a greeting, flying up to nestle on his shoulder.

  Keely ran up, pointing excitedly with her bow. “Look, the Vanir. They came.”

  With reinforcements at hand, Teren rallied his remaining men. The captain was a mess, a gash running across his cheek and one arm hanging limp, but that didn’t stop him swinging his sword with his one good hand.

  The Vanir were an even match for the brute strength of the Balfin apes. But the frost giants had better weapons and were clearly more skilled in battle. They were led by a giant man with a golden crown, who roared out orders to his men. The battle boiled over into a swarm of clashing swords that glinted in the afternoon light. The air was filled with clanging metal crunching against bone followed by yowls of pain.

  And then it was over. The few remaining survivors disappeared into the woods, pursued by the ruthless Vanir. As the dust settled, the large frost giant wearing a golden crown rode over on his horse. He jumped down and stood over them.

  “Thank you, Joran,” Keely said, flinging her arms around his waist.

  He patted her gently. “You were right, young one. This world is our world. It must be protected.”

  “We will need your help again,” she said, pulling back to stand by her friends.

  “The Vanir will be there,” Joran promised, bowing his head before he leaped on the back of his horse. He blew once on a large curved horn, sending a deep booming call to his men. In moments, the valley had cleared of the giant men.

  Rego and Teren hurried up as Joran rode off. Both men had shocked looks on their faces.

  “Were those . . .” The normally unflappable Rego was speechless.

  “They’re huge,” Teren added, eyes agog. “And their horses . . . did you see?”

  “Yup,” Keely said. “Those were the Vanir.”

  “You’re on a first-name basis with a bunch of frost giants?” Sam said, elbowing her. “And you can shoot an arrow better than I can. Any other surprises?”

  “Did I mention I’m part Eifalian now and I have magic?”

  They laughed as they walked back to the gates. Selina found Howie the moment he entered the city, practically squeezing him to death. Abigail beamed down at Sam from the ramparts. He gave a short wave before he was tackled by a tiny mud-caked figure.

  “We did it, Sam.” Mavery’s small face was streaked with dirt, but her grin was the same. Perrin trailed behind her.

  Sam ruffled Mavery’s hair. “Yeah, we did. Thanks to you.”

  Perrin punched Sam on the arm. “Good job, brother.”

  He winced, rubbing his arm. “Did you just give me a compliment?”

  She grinned. The smile transformed her face. “Maybe.”

  “Things are looking up,” Sam said. “The witches are defeated.”

  “You’re a witch,” Howie reminded him.

  “Correction: The bad witches are defeated, and things can go back to normal.”

  “Not normal,” Keely said slowly. “We’re still stuck here in Orkney. And you killed Odin,” she said gently, “or did you forget?”

  The group of friends waited for his answer.

  Sam grimaced. “No, but I can’t change that. You were right, what you said to me about facing the past. Vor warned me that I had to surrender to the darkness to win. I didn’t understand what she meant, but ever since I came into my magic, I’ve been afraid of what I would become. That if I let my guard down for a second, the darkness would swallow me up. Well, now I know what the worst of me looks like, and you know what? I’m not afraid anymore.”

  Leo came down from the ramparts, one arm under a woozy-looking Jey. “We have a bigger problem than getting home,” he announced. “When I was in the underworld, I met someone. I can’t remember his name. I think he hit me in the head with a rock.” He scowled, rubbing his temple. “All I know is, I messed up big time, but I don’t know how.”

  They looked at each other grimly.

  Sam spoke first. “Look. We’ll deal with it as it comes. But I promise you, we’ll figure out a way to get you home. Now, unless I’m mistaken, it’s time for the kitchens to reopen. A feast is in order to celebrate our victory!”

  “I could eat an entire cow,” Leo said, rubbing his stomach.

  “I could eat an entire herd of cows,” Jey boasted, grinning as Leo wrestled him to the ground. Howie and Sam piled on. Mavery laughed herself silly.

  Keely and Perrin exchanged looks. “Boys,” Keely said, hooking arms with the girl.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Catriona opened her eyes and shrieked. She recognized the underground stone walls. She had kept Kalifus here for weeks. Defiance rose in her like the temperature on a summer’s day. This stone prison wouldn’t hold her.

  “Let me out,” she screeched. “I am Catriona, the greatest of witches.”

  She rattled the door, but no one came.

  “I demand that you release me,” she screamed again, spittle spraying from her lips as she threw her bony frame against the door. Nothing. She collapsed against it. Would she spend eternity here alone? What of her plans to rule Orkney? To rule the world of men? She could not be defeated like this. She would not be.

  A rathos emerged from the shadows, an old one by the looks of its silvered back. It squeaked pathetically at her, running to her feet and winding itself around them. She kicked it hard, flinging it against the stone wall. It hit with a thunk and fell to the ground, then transformed into the familiar hunched figure of her cousin Bronte. Horrified by her carelessness, Catriona rushed to her side, but the old witch disintegrated into a cloud of ancient dust.

  Catriona rocked on her knees, heartbroken and alone.

  And then like manna from heaven, a sliver of light marked the floor as a slot opened in the door. A wild-looking eye pressed up to it.

  “Hello, pretty,” a voice called.

  “Who’s that?” Catriona rushed the door, peeking through the small slot.

  “A friend in need. And you seem in need of a friend.”

  Catriona turned on her charm. “I can be a very powerful friend. Get me out of here, and you will be rewarded.”

  The eye blinked. “Perhaps we could make a trade.”

  Excitement made Catriona scratch at the door. “Yes, anything.”

  “I will provide you with an escape in exchange for that talisman of Odin you carry in your pocket,” the mysterious voice said.

  Catriona backed away, clutching the tattered scrap of fur she kept hidden in the folds of her skirt. “No. You can’t have it.”

  “Then we are at odds.”

  The slot closed with a snap.

  Catriona flung herself at the door, pressing her face against it. “No, come back. Please, we can negotiate, surely.”

  The slot slowly reopened. “You have one thing only I desire. Pass it through, and I will give you salvation.”

  “You will let me out of here?”

  “The means to leave this cell,” the voice said cryptically.

  Catriona rubbed the ear and then decided it was a useless piece of sentiment. She shoved it through the opening. Fingers twitched as it grabbed it from hers.

  She pressed her hands against the door, waiting. “There. Now, give me my release.”

  A familiar object appeared in the slot. “Here, my pretty, enjoy.”

  The black obsidian blade of Rubicus clattered to the ground. Catriona stepped back, away from it.

  “What is this?”

  The voice chuckled with mirth. “Why, it’s your escape.”

  Outraged by this deceit, she sputtered, “How . . . how can I escape with this?”

  “That’s for you to decide.” The slot snapped closed.

  Catriona sent a blast of witchfire at the door, but nothing came out of her fingertips. She shook out her hands and tried again. Then she howled with rage. How dare they strip her magic! Her most precious gift shriveled to nothing.

  The whisper of sound behind her froze her in he
r tracks. “Who’s there?” she called.

  She turned her head at the skitter of tiny feet on the rock. It couldn’t be. They wouldn’t dare challenge her.

  The first sting made her flinch. The second, and she let out a shriek. Then the scorpions covered her body, and she went down in a teeming mass of stinging carapaces.

  Epilogue

  The towering silver acanthia tree sat high on a hill overlooking Skara Brae and the distant ocean. The wiry figure of a man sat on the limb, swinging his legs, whistling to himself. In his hand, he clutched a precious scrap of fur he had acquired in trade. Below him, his empire spread out like a ripe plum ready to be plucked from the unsuspecting. He felt so free. No one criticizing him. Telling him he was wrong. Telling him he was to blame.

  His years of imprisonment were over. Odin was dead, killed by someone he trusted. He clenched the scrap of fur tighter.

  Revenge really was the sweetest of nectars.

  “The king is dead,” he said, cackling to himself. “Long live the king.”

  Loki, God of Mischief, threw his head back and began to laugh.

  Chaos had returned to Orkney.

  For Henry, who finally discovered reading is fun!

  ANCIENT DAYS

  Valhalla

  Hall of the Gods

  Prologue

  The haggard old woman knocked on the door to Frigga’s chambers. The Annual Festival of Games was in full swing, with every god and goddess of Asgard crowding Valhalla with their boisterous shouts and boasts of greatness. The smell of roasting meat and sour ale filled the air in the stone hallway. Frigga, wife to Odin, called wearily for her to enter. The serving woman came in, carrying a bowl of steaming water in shaky hands.