by Alane Adams
Leyes waved a hand, releasing a cloud of fog across the table. “Captain, surely the veil has been torn?”
They watched as an image of a long-ago Odin appeared, standing on the shores of Orkney and sealing off their world from the fiery mountains of the South.
Abigail sighed heavily. “You think Odin’s passing has made it possible for Surt to advance?”
Leyes nodded over steepled fingers. “So it would seem.”
Rego snorted, jumping up on his stubby legs. “Then we stop him. I’ll take our best men and ride out to meet his army.”
Beo laughed harshly. “Dwarf, you speak a death sentence for those men. The fire giants are fiercer than any warrior alive. It would take a hundred times the forces we have at hand to defeat them, and, even then, I’m not sure we would win.”
“What do we do, then? Wait until they march on Skara Brae and burn it to the ground?” Rego thundered. “I say we fight.”
“Take heed, Rego,” Abigail murmured. “We must not act in haste. We do not have the power to defeat Surt. Today was just a survey party. They will need to amass their weapons and move them into position. We have time yet to plan.”
“What are you thinking, my lady?” Captain Teren asked.
“We will need powerful magic to fight them. Perhaps if I speak with Hestera, convince her to join with us. A coven of witches will do much toward balancing the power.”
Teren drummed his fingers on the table. “Even if every last witch joined us, it wouldn’t be enough to defeat Surt—”
Before he could finish the sentence, the door to the chambers banged open. A hunched man shuffled in wearing a hooded cloak. A cold wind blew in with him, snuffing out most of the candles.
The room went silent.
Captain Teren rose, one hand to his sword. “Excuse us, sir, this is a private meeting.”
The man ignored him, hobbling forward in the dim light until he was at the head of the table. Then with a flourish he threw back the hood and grinned at them.
“Isn’t this a lovely sight,” he said.
Sam frowned. For some reason, his skin crawled with dread. The man was stocky, not too tall, with a broad face and a wide grin. Bushy eyebrows made him look almost feral, and his deep-set eyes glittered with a potent evil.
Abigail rose, sniffing at the air. “Who are you? I sense powerful magic.”
The intruder raised innocent hands. “Who, me? I was just looking for the kitchens. I always did like the kidney pies here.”
Leo shoved past Sam. “I know you. You’re the one that hit me on the head with that rock in the underworld.”
The man’s eyes narrowed into slits of evil. Then he grinned, spreading his hands. “You caught me. Loki’s the name; mischief’s my game. Hear me, oh, wise council of Orkney. Enjoy your last days of peace. Surt’s army of angry fire giants will soon be marching down your throats.”
“You did this,” Abigail breathed. “You went to Surt.” She raised her hand, and a blue ball of witchfire sprang up, but before she could throw it he snapped his fingers and the fire sputtered out.
“Take a seat, deary.” Abigail was slammed into her seat with some invisible force.
Magic boiled under Sam’s skin. He was ready to blast this mischief-maker into the next world, but his mother silently shook her head at him.
Loki strutted around the table. “I might have stirred the pot, but Surt would have figured it out soon enough.” He scanned the room, eyeing the banners and the shields mounted on the walls. “I just wanted to see the old place one last time before he burns it to the ground.”
He stopped in front of Sam, who had to ask, “Why are you doing this?”
Loki leaned in and sniffed Sam’s scent, and then his eyes lit up. “You’re the Son of Odin that took his life. I should give you a medal. Why, you ask? Do you know what Odin did to me? What he did to my wife and children?”
“Your children are horrible beasts,” Keely said fiercely. “They deserve to be chained up.”
Loki flung his hand out, and, with a snap of his fingers, Keely went flying backward. She crashed into the wall with a thud. “My children will rule this world on the ashes of your bones.”
Leo and Jey rushed to Keely’s side to help her up. She looked shaken but unhurt.
“You’ve been warned,” Loki continued, pointing a finger at all of them. “Now that your precious Odin is dead, you don’t have a prayer. Surt will burn your cities and cut you down like paper dolls.”
There was shocked silence, and then Captain Teren stepped forward. “Surt will not defeat us. We have friends. Allies. They will join us. We stand united.”
Loki laughed bitterly. “United? There’s a joke. The witches hate you. The Balfins are all but destroyed. The Falcory, well, don’t get me started; they’re weak, clinging to their old ways. The Vanir need only the slightest push to unleash their bloodthirst for war on the Eifalians. Who does that leave? You lot. Well, sorry, you don’t scare me. And, speaking of those frosty Vanir, it’s time they were reminded of their hatred for the Eifalians. Ta-ta!”
As a group of Orkadian soldiers burst into the room, closely followed by Damarius howling with rage, Loki transformed into a raven, scattering feathers everywhere before he flew up the chimney.
Sam was the first to speak in the silence. “Did you hear that? Loki’s going to trick the Vanir into starting a war with the Eifalians.”
Perrin looped her arms around Damarius as Keely limped back to the table. “The Vanir will keep to their treaty. I know their king, Joran. He is an honorable man.”
But Leyes slammed two hands down on the table, shouting, “The Vanir have no honor! Look how they executed our king because of a thousand-year-old hatred.” He stood abruptly. “I must warn my people. I will leave for Torf-Einnar immediately. I’m sorry I cannot stay and help in this fight.”
“What if I go to Rakim and talk to Joran?” Keely said. “I know he’ll listen to me.”
There was silence as the council digested that, and then Leo stepped forward. “Keely’s right,” he said. “She has the best chance of reaching the king of the Vanir. I’ll go with her,” he added, his voice thick with guilt. “This is my fault. I freed Loki.”
Jey jumped into it. “If Leo’s going, I’m going. Keely will need a lot of protecting.”
Abigail shook her head. “Thank you, Jey, but I think your father might need you here. Beo, what say you?”
The dangling feathers in Beo’s ears swayed as he shook his head. “The frost giants have always stood in brotherhood with the fire giants. Between them they can take Orkney apart. If the girl believes she can convince the Vanir to join with us, I’m for it. Until then, our biggest threat is Surt’s army of boercats, the flying red beasts he rides on. I have an idea. There is an ancient mountain of stone to the east of the Falcory lands, the Caverns of Inizza. They are said to be the birthplace of the ancient Safyre Omeras.”
Abigail’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Surely those horrid beasts are long dead?”
“Not dead. Sleeping. Catriona awoke one in her battle with your son. In recent days, we have seen signs, strange burn marks on the stones, and our hunting grounds have been disturbed. There are whispers in the sands that when the beast was called, its mate was also awoken.”
“It might give us an edge,” Abigail said quietly, looking to Teren. “One we desperately need.”
The captain slowly nodded his agreement. He looked tired, weary to the bone, and Sam couldn’t blame him. He had just led the Orkadian army through a difficult battle with the witches, and now this.
“Let me go with you, father,” Jey said eagerly. “I will help you find this Safyre Omera and bring it to heel like a dog.”
Beo shook his head, his dark eyes unflinching. “Hunting this beast will be the most dangerous thing the Falcory have undertaken. You will stay here in Skara Brae and await my return. That is my final word.”
Jey scowled and folded his arms.
Teren stoo
d. “Then we’re agreed. There is no time to waste. The tides will be in our favor this afternoon to sail to Rakim. Galatin, you will escort Keely and Leo on their journey.”
The young Orkadian soldier nodded. Galatin had traveled with Keely to the North once before. “Aye, Teren, I know my way around there. Didn’t lose my head last time.” He winked at Keely.
Abigail also rose. “My friends, once again we face an enemy greater than any we have faced before. We must stand together, or we will lose. May Odin’s fortunes smile upon you on your journeys.”
Chapter 4
As the room emptied, Sam grabbed Keely’s arm and pulled her aside. “I’m going after Odin. He’s the only one who can fix this. Don’t say anything to my mom or she’ll have me locked in the dungeon.”
“Just be careful. Helva is one of Loki’s offspring. I don’t need Eifalian senses to tell me there’s something strange going on here.”
Sam nodded. A prickly premonition ran up his spine that this was going to end badly.
At midday, they stood on the dock preparing to say goodbye. Sam had sent out a call to an Omera to fly his mother to Balfour Island. It hadn’t taken long for one to circle overhead.
The Orkadians eyed the jet-black creature warily as it perched on a piling, sunning itself in the sun. The scratch of its talons across the wood made everyone keep a safe distance. Even the rustle of its wings was enough to make Teren go pale. Only Sam had greeted it with a hug and a long nose rub.
Howie looped his arms around Keely. “I wish I could go with you, but the captain would be lost without me.”
Jey jostled him aside, sweeping her into a hug. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come? A Falcory brave at your side would be much smarter than this lowly Umatilla.”
Keely rolled her eyes as Jey slapped Leo hard on the back. “May the winds be behind you so Keely doesn’t smell how bad you stink.”
Abigail came over to wrap Sam in a warm embrace. “Stay out of trouble,” she said sternly.
Sam grinned innocently. “Who, me?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re hiding something. What is it?”
Trust his mother’s witch instincts to see right through him. He looked down, scuffing at the wooden plank, and then crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping a half-truth would help. “I’m just, you know, a little jealous Leo’s going, and I’m stuck here.”
His mom rolled her eyes. “Teenagers.” But it did the trick. She climbed up on top of the Omera. As it launched into the air, she called out to Rego, “Keep watch over him. He’s up to something.”
“Aye, my lady, he usually is.” Rego came up behind Sam and gripped his shoulder tight enough to make him wince. “Wanna tell me what it is, lad? Or should I just wait for you to get into hot water before I wring your neck?”
Sam plucked Rego’s hand off and stepped back, shrugging innocently. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
They made their way up from the docks into the square in front of the Great Hall. The marketplace bustled with carts. Sam’s stomach rumbled at the smell of roasted meat kabobs. He could do with a snack before he hatched his plan to rescue Odin. A shimmer of green caught his eye. A small figure dragging its knuckles on the ground scurried under a cart.
Rego started listing all of Sam’s chores, but Sam hardly heard him, too busy puzzling out what he’d just seen. Because it had looked an awful lot like Fetch, Odin’s little green servant who had annoyed Sam on Asgard when he’d first met Odin.
Sam elbowed Howie. “Distract Rego. There’s someone I need to see. Meet me in the stables after supper.”
Howie grabbed Rego’s arm and said the one thing sure to get the dwarf’s attention. “Hey, I’m worried about Lingas. She didn’t want to go hunting this morning. She hasn’t eaten all day.”
“Not hungry? She might be sick. Why didn’t you tell me?” The dwarf scurried away to the barn where Lingas had her perch. Howie flashed Sam a thumbs-up as Sam shoved his way forward, moving between the carts and searching for the flash of green. The scamp had rolled under a cart selling pickled vegetables and dried gourds. Sam peered under the wheels, drawing a glare from the woman tending the cart.
“Did you steal my pickle jar?” she blustered, her face red.
“No, ma’am, I’m just looking for a friend.”
She shooed him away, flapping her apron at him. Behind her, a flash of green caught his eye, moving toward a side alley.
Sam pushed his way through the crowd and burst out into the narrow alley. An empty jar lay on the ground in a pool of spilled pickle juice. At the end, he made out the outline of Fetch’s forlorn shape dragging itself around the corner.
“Fetch, wait up!” he called, breaking into a run.
He turned the corner and . . . tripped over the spindly green leg that was sticking out. Sam went flying, scuffing his palms on the rough stones. Winded, he caught his breath before rolling over and looking up into the large almond-shaped eyes of Fetch.
For once the furry green pest wasn’t laughing at Sam’s folly. The creature’s normally placid face was drawn into a scowl. From behind him, the bushy red head of the squirrel Ratatosk appeared.
“Traitor!” the squirrel barked. “How could you hurt the boss?” Ratatosk ran up Sam’s leg all the way to his shoulder and started pounding on Sam’s head with his little fists.
“Hey, knock it off!” Sam grabbed the squirrel by the nape of its neck and held it away a safe distance.
Odin’s minions glared at Sam like he was a—well, a murderous traitor.
“I ought to chew your ears off,” Ratatosk threatened, shaking a tiny fist at him. “The boss was your friend.”
Great, like he didn’t feel bad enough, he had a squirrel rubbing his face in the biggest mistake of his life. “I know, I’m sorry. What are you guys doing here?”
Sam carefully set the squirrel on the ground.
Fetch stepped forward, but Ratatosk jumped in front of the green creature. “Don’t give it to him,” the squirrel said. “I don’t trust him.”
Sam’s pulse quickened. “Give me what?”
Fetch cleared his throat, pushing the squirrel to the side. “A gift have I, to deliver to you, in the case of . . . upon . . . that is . . . rather . . . as has happened . . . the demise,” his voice broke a bit as he went on, “of his Highest.” He fumbled with something in his furred hands, but Ratatosk was a blur and snatched the tiny object from him.
“How can you trust him after what he did to the boss?” the squirrel demanded.
“Easy, Ratatosk,” Fetch said softly, prying the little wooden object away. “Trust him or not, Odin’s orders must be obeyed.”
He handed Sam a tiny wooden ship that fit in the palm of his hand. It was beautiful, carved with fine details, complete with rigging and a rudder.
“Did you carve this?” Sam asked, holding it up to his eye so he could look into the little cabin. He ran a finger over the smooth face of the sails.
Fetch blinked guiltily. “I, er, borrowed it from someone. Odin said if anything were to happen to him, we were to help. I believe this will assist you in your journey. We must be getting back now.” He began backing away.
“Hey, not so fast!” Sam said. “What do I do with this?”
Fetch continued to move away, ears drooping as he nervously twisted his fingers. “This is Skidbladnir. It will take you where you need to go. Please,” his voice broke, “bring him back.” Then Fetch turned the corner with the squirrel still shaking its fist in disgust at him. Sam ran after them, but the pair had disappeared.
Sam was left holding the boat, rubbing the polished wood with a frown.
Chapter 5
Loki flew north, ignoring his fatigue and reveling in his freedom. After eons locked in a dank underground prison, he savored the sun on his face, the wind under his wings, blood coursing through his veins. In his raven form, he could travel faster and pass unseen by most.
The frost giants to the north, brothers to Surt an
d his kind, would not fall into alliance with the fire giants so easily. They had grown soft over the centuries. They would need to be properly motivated, reminded of their hatred of their Eifalian neighbors to the south. When Loki was done with his plan for revenge, Odin’s precious Orkney would be nothing but rubble.
Circling above the Vanirian kingdom of Rakim, Loki searched out their capital city. Galas was built into the sea-wall and surrounded by a high stone wall, though few would be foolish enough to attack the bloodthirsty Vanir. Purple banners flapped in the breeze. The day was sunny, but the northern air carried a bite.
Loki landed on the rooftop of the palace. Preening his feathers, he shook them out, shrinking down in size and changing colors to a brilliant blue. He chirped once, testing his new voice, then fluttered down to a window where the sound of children’s laughter escaped. Alighting on the ledge, he trilled sweetly, getting the attention of the two children playing inside.
“Papa, look, it’s a mockingbird,” the older child, a boy of about eight, said.
Loki chirped, bobbing his head at the boy who ran to the window. His father, king of the Vanir and a giant of a man, Joran, came up behind him and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Be careful, Kaleb, the bird may bite.”
The boy looked up at his father with shining eyes. “Don’t be silly, Papa. Birds can’t bite.”
Kaleb put his finger out, and Loki hopped onto it to the delight of the boy. Loki tilted his head back and sang a little song. The young girl crept closer, slipping her hand in her father’s.
“Can we keep him?” she asked shyly, reaching up to touch the bird. Loki ruffled out his feathers, rubbing his head along her finger.
Joran laughed. “Sweet Madilyn, would you tame a lion and take away his roar? If you cage a bird, you take away its song. Birds must be left to fly free. If it chooses to return, it honors you with its company.”
Reluctantly Kaleb held up his finger, and Loki took flight, smiling slyly as he flew off. Soon the boy would follow him wherever he chose.
