The Legends of Orkney

by Alane Adams

  Geela raised an eyebrow at him. “Nicely done.”

  “Being a witch has its benefits.” He pushed open the gate the dog had guarded. “Ladies first.”

  Chapter 28

  Inside the gates of Helva’s mansion, the grayness was replaced by vibrant color. Sam wiggled his toes in fresh springy green grass. Flower bushes lined the stone path that led to the front door. Bright bougainvillea vines exploded in reds and purples.

  Curious, Sam plucked a blade of grass and stuck it through the bars. As soon as it passed through, it curled up and shriveled into a brown dry wisp. Dropping it, Sam turned to find Geela had moved toward a tree. She stared up at the red globes that hung from it.

  Apples.

  The most beautiful he had ever seen.

  “What are you waiting for?” Sam reached up into the branches to grab one of the ripe fruits. “They look delicious.” He tugged one loose, but she slapped his hand, sending the apple rolling away.

  “Have you learned nothing?” she hissed at him.

  “Yeah, never trust a Valkyrie.”

  She took her sword and stabbed the apple. It split open, spilling out a swarm of worms that crawled away in every direction. Nausea turned his stomach. He had been about to bite into it.

  “I’m sorry.” He’d been his usual idiotic self. “I should have known better.”

  “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  Geela stalked up the path toward the pair of doors that marked the entrance to Helva’s mansion.

  They took the steps two at a time. The front door had a large circular knocker hanging from the mouth of a gargoyle. Sam picked it up and knocked firmly three times. Inside, the loud sound of the knocking echoed.

  He took a step back from the door. Geela’s tension radiated from her, but she kept her sword in its sheath. They waited, but nothing happened. Sam was about to knock again when Geela stayed him.

  “Helva, Queen of the Underworld,” she called out in a ringing voice, “we have come to seek your audience.”

  They listened for any sound of approaching footsteps. Maybe Helva was planning on ignoring them in hopes they would go quietly away.

  Fat chance.

  Sam stepped forward, ready to blast the door off its hinges, when it swung open silently.

  They stepped over the threshold into a large entry hall. Overhead, an enormous chandelier made of sparkling glass held hundreds of glowing candles dripping black wax onto the ground. A curving staircase with an ornately carved wooden railing led to a second floor. A set of double doors were open. A drawing room could be seen beyond the doors.

  The trailing sound of piano notes drifted from the room. Ready to face whatever was ahead, Sam crossed the marble floor alongside Geela.

  They paused in the doorway. The salon was furnished with fine furniture, delicate chairs that barely looked strong enough to hold Sam. A long, low couch took up one wall. A fire burned in a stone fireplace blackened with centuries of soot. A gilded cage with a pair of yellow canaries stood in the corner. Their eyes glittered with a spiteful green at the intruders.

  A grand piano took up a prominent position in the center of the room. At the keyboard sat a young woman facing sideways to them, her face partially visible. She was strikingly beautiful, with perfect white skin and lush lips curved in a lovely smile. Her fingers ran over the keys and played haunting music that filled Sam’s heart with sadness and longing. Blond hair spilled over her shoulder. Her long white-and-black-striped gown hugged her figure, revealing soft curves.

  “Excuse me, we’re looking for Helva?” Sam called out.

  At his words, her fingers crashed down on the keys, sending out a loud cacophony of sounds. The canaries let out a harsh series of squeaks, fluttering their wings at the noise.

  “You dare interrupt me while I am playing?” Her voice was icily angry, but she kept her eyes downcast at her hands.

  “Sorry, but we did knock,” Sam joked.

  Helva, if that’s who it was, didn’t look amused. “Did you? I didn’t hear a thing. Normally, Garm takes care of intruders.”

  “Sorry about that,” Sam said. “But Garm might not be feeling up to it. I’m afraid he ran into the wall at high speed.”

  Waves of fury rose off her, but she kept herself still. “What do you want?” she asked, folding her hands on her lap, her shoulders hunched in a circle over the keyboard.

  “We want our friends back,” Sam said, taking a step closer. She wasn’t that scary. He could handle this. “And we want Odin.”

  Helva turned her face to snarl at him, leaping to her feet and slamming the cover on the piano shut. “Never say that name here!” she screamed.

  Sam’s courage turned to marshmallow because the face she now showed was only half beautiful—the half he had seen while she had been seated. The other half, the half that had been hidden, was hideous.

  Her skull held a hollow eye socket, and her half-decayed lips revealed the roots of teeth long rotted out. Her left hand was skeletal fingers. A red ruby bracelet was draped around the bone, dangling down like a cruel reminder of the flesh it had once adorned.

  “What’s the matter? Do you not find me so appealing, then?”

  Helva, Goddess of Death, sauntered forward. The half of her face that was intact smiled at him with grotesque mockery because underneath it, he could see squirming parasites, like she was decaying before him.

  “You look like two-day-old roadkill,” Sam said.

  The good side of her face tightened. “And you look like a delicious bit of human flesh for me to dine on,” she snapped back. She looked at Geela intently. “You there, what are you?” She sniffed the air. “Not entirely human?”

  “I am Geela of the Valkyrie,” the warrior announced proudly.

  “Then you will be mine someday.” Helva giggled, like a young girl, putting her good hand over her mouth. “We will have such fun together, just two girls hanging out, picking decaying flesh off the lost souls who end up here. Like those orphans I plucked from the sea,” she mentioned idly, running her skeletal hand up Sam’s arm. “They are just ripe to be stripped of their flesh,” she whispered in his ear.

  Her birds sent up another chorus of angry tweets, as if they were serenading along with Helva’s mad thoughts.

  Sam controlled his urge to strike her, to throttle that half-bony neck so that the rest of her knew what it meant to decay. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Let’s figure out a way for us to get out of here with what we came for.”

  “Lovely. We can negotiate, is that it?” She laughed again, tilting her head back so that the sounds echoed in the room. “But first, you must stay for dinner. Chef has prepared a very special meal.”

  “I’m not sitting at your table,” Sam said. “I know your tricks.”

  “Then this conversation is over,” Helva said, turning her back to sit down on the couch. “You can walk out the front gates and return to wherever you came from. I have no interest in you.”

  Dismissed, and missing his friends, Sam flung his palms forward, sending a large bolt of energy at the piano, shattering it into a pile of black wood and white keys. Broken wire pinged and smoldered in the air.

  Helva screamed, coming to her feet, hands drawn into fists. “How dare you?” she screeched. “That was a gift from my father. I will kill you a thousand times a day for the next thousand years for that.” She flung out her bony hand, pointing one finger at him.

  Paralyzed and unable to move, Sam’s heart slowed as his blood cooled. He dropped to his knees, unable to draw a breath. Memories, feelings, thoughts—all drained away as she stepped closer, crooking that finger, drawing his life out of him.

  It was Geela who saved him. The Valkyrie drew her sword and moved behind the queen of the underworld, laying it against her throat. “This blade was made by the gods. It can take your head off, as no mortal sword can do. Let him go.”

  It took a moment, one where another few years peeled off Sam’s life, but then Helva drop
ped her hand and released him.

  He hit the floor on all fours, hanging his head as he gasped for air. His fingers tingled as if she’d drained the blood from him.

  “Now, you will join me for dinner,” Helva said brightly, as if nothing had happened. “I promise to serve you something delicious.”

  Geela put Sam’s arm over her shoulder, lifting him to his feet, smiling back at Helva. “We’d be delighted.”

  Helva clapped her hands, and a servant appeared, a stooped woman with a white apron over a black dress.

  “Show our guests to the table, Meera. And tell Chef we have company. We must whet their appetite.”

  “That was pretty stupid,” Geela whispered as she helped him walk out of the room.

  “I thought it was kind of funny,” Sam whispered back, as shooting pain pinged every cell of his body. “It got her attention.”

  “Next time, I’ll let her drain the life out of you,” she snapped.

  “Then who will you pick on?”

  Geela had the grace to laugh. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “So far, I’m hanging in there. I am a Son of Odin, you know; they make our kind pretty tough.”

  Helva’s servant, Meera, shuffled along, her back stooped over with age. She reached an ornately carved door and pushed it open. It revealed a long dining table covered with a white cloth. Chandeliers lit up the room. The black candles flickered with yellow light. The table was set for at least twenty people, with place settings and napkins neatly folded, waiting to be laid out on guests’ laps.

  “Where is everyone else?” Sam asked.

  “I’d rather not meet her friends,” Geela said with a shudder. “Remember what I told you; eat nothing she offers.”

  She helped him to a chair and pulled out the one next to him for herself. He sank into the padded seat, grateful for the rest.

  The door at the far end of the drawing room flew open. Helva sailed in. She had changed into a long black gown that flowed behind her. The side of her head that had hair was styled into a long braid over her good shoulder.

  “Welcome to my home,” she said, as if she were seeing them for the first time. She waited for Meera to shuffle over and pull her seat out in a slow creak across the floor.

  She seated herself like a queen and waited for the maid to take the napkin and lay it across her lap. The old woman moved slow, like her limbs were weighted down with lead.

  Helva clapped her hands, and the double doors flew open. A series of servers came through, dressed in white uniforms, each holding a silver domed plate. They had pale gray flesh and eyes that held no life, as if they were the living dead. Still, Sam’s stomach rumbled, his mouth salivating at the tempting odors that wafted from the dishes.

  Behind the servers, a portly man came out with a tall white cap carrying a platter with a roasted turkey on it, glistening with fat and dripping juices. His cheeks were ruddy and red. He set the platter in front of Sam and waved the smell up to his nose.

  “You look like a hungry young man,” Chef chortled, eyes twinkling as he gazed at Sam. “How about a juicy leg for you?” He carved the leg off the bird with a long sharp knife.

  Turkey legs dancing in his eyes, Sam picked up his plate, holding it out, but Geela the killjoy grabbed his wrist in a vise grip and forced him to put the plate back down.

  “He’s not hungry,” Geela said evenly, looking the chef in the eye.

  “He looks hungry to me.” Chef held the leg out, offering it to Sam. “What do you say, boy? I can give you a juicy breast if you prefer. Chef has anything you want.”

  Sam almost cried as the chef set the leg back on the plate. He watched as the man sliced into the crisp brown skin of the breast. Juices drained down the side of it, pooling on the silver platter. Chef speared a thick piece of white meat and put it on Sam’s plate without asking.

  Sam stared down at the steaming meat. Chef ladled some thick gravy and poured it over the top. Next to it he scooped a perfect mountain of mashed potatoes, placing a dab of butter in the center. The butter slowly melted along with Sam’s insides into a puddle of yellow deliciousness.

  “Beware, Son of Odin, or this meal will be your last,” Geela hissed.

  Chapter 29

  Sam heard Geela, but the need to eat was overwhelming him. His stomach was so empty. He hadn’t eaten a meal like this in forever. He couldn’t take his eyes off the deliciousness in front of him. With a shaky hand, he picked up his fork, holding it over the pile of potatoes. He pressed his fork in, watching as the butter ran down the side and mixed with the gravy. Spearing a piece of meat, he dipped it into the gravy and swirled it into the potatoes and stared at the forkful of heaven.

  “Eat that, and you will surely die,” Geela said, sounding like a broken record.

  “If I don’t eat it, I will surely die of hunger,” Sam said, and he opened his mouth, pushing in the morsel. As the food met his taste buds, an exquisite feeling ran through him. He’d half-expected something awful, but it was turkey and potatoes and the best gravy he’d ever tasted. He swallowed it, feeling it hit his stomach. As it did, a powerful hunger came over him.

  He really was starving, he told himself, forking another mouthful in. With every bite, he grew more and more hungry. He forked a leg off the platter and put it on his plate, grabbing it with both hands and not caring that he smeared grease on his face as he gnawed it down to the bone. He had to have more. A black hole took the place of his stomach, demanding food, more food.

  He reached for another leg. Geela stayed his arm again. “Look at yourself.”

  He looked down. He was sure his belly would have grown two sizes, but his pants were loose around his waist. Setting down his fork, he ignored the screaming hunger that made him want to dive onto the platter of meat, and lifted his shirt. Rib bones poked out. His stomach was concave, hollowed out.

  “What’s happening?” he whispered.

  “You are starving to death,” Geela said tightly. “Do you never listen? I warned you about this.”

  He tried to remember her words, but things were fuzzy. “The knife, you said it was Starvation,” he mumbled.

  “Yes, the knife Chef used causes the person eating to slowly starve with every bite. This table is called Hunger. As long as you stay here, you will never be filled.”

  “But I have to have more.” He reached for the platter of meat.

  “Then you will die.” Geela didn’t try to stop him; she just sat back in her chair, arms folded across her chest, her eyes on the woman at the other end of the room.

  Sam’s hand shook madly as he willed himself from reaching for another drumstick. He thought of all the reasons he wanted it, and then, as his stomach moaned with hunger, he finally drew his hand back to his lap.

  Helva laughed, the notes tittering down the table. “Bravo. That was tremendous. I have never seen anyone resist Chef’s tableau before. You are one in a million.” Clapping her hands sharply, she motioned for the crew of servants to take away the plates and the dishes and the meat platter, making Sam want to cry as they carried it away.

  “Come, we will retire to my study,” Helva said. “We can conduct our business there.”

  Geela pushed her chair back, but Sam couldn’t move. Every cell of his body cried out for more food. He could have wept as he stared at the empty place where his plate had sat.

  Geela forcibly lifted him from his seat and yanked him away from the table. “Come on, then, time to do what we came for.”

  He looked longingly over his shoulder as she dragged him off. How could something that tasted so delicious be so deadly? Was nothing in Orkney ever good?

  Geela dropped him into a chair in front of a roaring fire.

  Sam gripped the armrests to stop himself from chasing after Chef and screaming for more turkey. Helva sat down across from him, folding her hands across the glossy fabric of her dress. He’d gotten used to her skeletal half, ignoring the empty eye socket to focus on her good side.

  “Wh
at makes you think Odin is here?” Helva began, plucking at the folds of her skirt. “The old goat is hardly welcome in my home. He’s the one who cursed me here an eternity ago.”

  “He has to be here,” Sam said, struggling to sit up straight. “I killed him.”

  She arched her single eyebrow. “A mere boy?”

  Geela explained for him. “Not just a boy, a Son of Odin. And Catriona.”

  “I thought that was impossible. So that’s how you destroyed my piano.” She leaned forward, resting her hideous chin on her hand. “Tell me, how did you kill Odin?”

  Sam told the story of Brunin and how he’d plunged his knife into the bear’s heart. “But you must know all this. Odin is here somewhere; he has to be.”

  She drummed the bony tips of her fingers on the wooden arm of her chair. “It would seem you have wasted your time on a fool’s journey.” She unfolded her legs and stood up. “Which is a pity, because if he had shown up at my gates, I would have welcomed him with open arms.” The deadly tone of her voice left no doubt as to her meaning. “I do, however, have your two friends. Perhaps we can negotiate for their lives.”

  Sam couldn’t tell if she was lying about Odin. Short of searching the place high and low, he didn’t know what to do. If she really had Perrin and Mavery . . .

  “I’ll stay,” Geela said quietly. “I will serve you the rest of the days of my life. In exchange, you let Sam and his friends leave here.”

  Interest flared in the underworld queen’s eyes, but she shook her head. “Tempting, to be sure, a Valkyrie of my own, but the boy has something of greater value to me.”

  Sam was puzzled. Unless she wanted the lump of rock that hung around his neck, he had nothing to give.

  But Geela had already read Helva’s intentions, jumping to her feet and drawing her sword. “No. I will not let him do it.”

  “Do what?” Sam asked, confused.

  “Give me your magic,” Helva said, smiling at him with that horrible half grin.

  Sam’s jaw dropped. His magic for the lives of his friends? He couldn’t breathe. His magic was a part of him, like his lungs and his kidneys. It gave him strength and made him special. How could he ever give it up?