Menelaus held his finger to his lips, tilting his ear towards the gap. ‘I hear weeping,’ he said.
Rosalia slipped inside the room before he could stop her. Damn it. It could be a trap.
He crept in behind her, and was immediately struck by the vision of the goddess Persephone, her luxurious, silky gown spread across the velvet-draped bed, those slender, milky arms and her flower-tressed hair the only visible parts of her.
Her muffled sobs gave the chamber a haunting quality.
‘Sepho…’ Rosalia breathed.
The crying halted – and resumed. ‘Oh! Hades is right! My mind is as fragile as the bones of a bird’s wing! I cannot bear to be alone, so I imagine my beloved child returned! No, I shall not fall for it. I must be strong…’
Rosalia climbed onto the bed and began to plait Persephone’s hair. ‘I remember the first time you asked me to do this for you,’ she said. ‘I was so afraid; did you know that? I think you looked at me, a girl stolen from her family and life in Midgard, and recognised yourself. The bride of Hades. Fearsome, quick-tempered, desperate.’
Persephone rose her head. ‘Lia, is that really you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh!’ Persephone shrieked and squeezed Rosalia so hard that Menelaus almost intervened. But she let go. ‘Have you succeeded in your mission, then? Have you come back for me?’
‘We had a setback,’ Menelaus said, ‘but yes, we have returned for you.’
Persephone clapped her hands, her smile reaching her large, almond-shaped eyes. Real joy softened her sharp mouth and chin. ‘Are we leaving now?’ She spoke with the innocence of a child, despite the dark realm she inhabited.
‘As soon as possible,’ Rosalia said, adjusting the flowers that had been crushed during Persephone’s sobbing. ‘But we can’t escape Hel’s webs without destroying her net.’
Persephone’s cheeks whitened. ‘Oh, goodness. I fear we are all doomed. How do you propose to snip the threads?’
With a prayer and a pair of scissors. ‘Leave that to us.’
‘And how are you going to retrieve it?’
Menelaus and Rosalia exchanged a glance. ‘That’s where you come in.’
Menelaus kneeled in front of Loki, the point of the god’s barbed sword pressing into his throat, his hands bound in chains alongside his sister.
‘I told you, Loki,’ said Persephone, ‘not to bother hunting down these traitors. Destiny did the work for you and here they are, tossed back to Hel by the Midgard Serpent himself. Now that is poetic, don’t you think?’
Loki smiled and almost reopened Menelaus’s scar where Lorenzo had slit his throat. He grimaced.
‘Poetry in motion,’ Loki said.
‘What are you going to do to us?’ Rosalia asked.
Come on, Loki, buy the act. Menelaus watched his sister cowering meekly in the corner of his eye. He hoped the risk was worth it. The alternative required a lot of luck and sneaking around and they didn’t have that kind of time. He really had no choice but to place his faith in Ava instead.
‘You aren’t the first to desert me,’ Loki said. ‘I presume it was you, Guardian, who put my men up to storming the Chambers of Judgement? Not all of them made it, by the way.’
More guilt. Whatever he did, it always came back to that. Rosalia pressed the side of her thigh into his as if to say, you can’t save them all.
They waited for Loki’s verdict in silence. ‘Serpent got your tongue, has he? Persephone, fetch my daughter. She’ll be so pleased.’
‘About what?’ Rosalia asked.
‘Oh, do you think I’m angry at you, my children?’ Loki withdrew the cold tip from Menelaus’s throat. ‘Why? Didn’t you do as I wanted by plucking Surt’s beating heart from his chest? Ah, I see you did not know – Surt is Muspelheim. And now, thanks to you, he’s unable to challenge my will.’
‘But we don’t have it,’ Menelaus said. ‘Akhen stole it.’
Loki shrugged. ‘Prophecy is a bitch, isn’t she? However, it should make Ragnarök that much more interesting. And inevitable. So no, I am not angry. Quite the contrary – I find myself in a state of delight. Well, go on Sepho, get my daughter. It’s time to celebrate!’
‘Where is she?’
‘Still weaving the Craven’s harness.’
‘In her weaving room?’
Loki nodded.
Persephone abandoned them, her flowery gown skirting the floor of Hades’s throne room, where she had brought them after alerting Loki. Although the throne room overlooked one of the rivers, through two huge openings in the rock, there were no glass windows, only a crisscross of iron bars that made Menelaus feel like he’d been slung into prison.
What’s that noise? Menelaus listened as Loki forced them up and shoved them into the corner. It sounds like the Craven…in pain. He glanced at Rosalia but her expression was too neutral to indicate she’d twigged it too. The Craven’s weak cries filtered down from above, along with the rattle of chains like the ones linked around his wrists.
The throne room flooded with servants as Loki organised his End-of-the-World party, Hades drifting in to float around aimlessly, not even questioning Loki when the usurper-god started directing operations from his throne. Menelaus couldn’t help but feel sorry for old Bat Wings.
‘I think it’s time for some entertainment!’ Loki shouted suddenly, causing a few plates to clatter to the floor in surprise. A couple of burly men yanked Menelaus and Rosalia into the centre of the room. Oh god. What’s he going to do to us?
‘Ah! Hel! There you are. Just in time.’
Menelaus eyed those bars at the window and tried to convince himself he could fit through the gaps. Anything to escape as the Black Widow scuttled over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘You’re quite the undercover agent, aren’t you?’
He forced a smile.
‘They are about to regale us with a re-enactment,’ Loki said, patting Persephone’s empty throne. ‘Join me, daughter, and witness how a half-dead dhampir and a bookworm managed to outwit my sons, break into Muspelheim, and steal Brann.’ He pointed at the burly men. ‘You two can play uglier versions of Narvi and Vali.’ He picked out a group of servants to act the part of fire giants. Loki grinned. ‘And I shall play Nidhug!’
Please, no.
At least ’Narvi’ and ‘Vali’ unchained them for the performance.
This is ridiculous. Hades pretended to chase the servants, who were trying to break into the Chambers of Justice, while Rosalia and Menelaus used the distraction to run across the room and jump into Hvergelmir – sans Persephone’s role in their escape.
Loki was true to his word and flew around them, chucking apples and half the food the servants had brought for the party, imitating Nidhug’s fury as they climbed the iron bars at the window – Rosalia almost falling through once.
Hel cackled and screeched with laughter, Persephone clapping along. Menelaus glanced over his shoulder and saw her patting Hel’s blue-black hand as if she wasn’t planning to betray her. It made him uneasy. What if this was all some elaborate double-cross or was that too paranoid, even for him?
Once they reached the dwarves’ capital city, Loki instructed them to reveal how they’d convinced his twin sons that they had Loki’s permission. Rosalia imitated producing the fake writ, sending spasms of laughter through the room.
‘That’s enough!’ Loki roared. ‘My sons don’t have time for study. They’re too busy gouging out eyes and crunching on bones.’ Seeing Loki get defensive tickled Menelaus’s funny bone. The god fastened his attention on him.
‘Rosalia. On my back then. Let’s defeat those fire giants again.’ He leapt and spun in the air, dodging imaginary flames and geysers of lava, wondering how on earth he’d managed to become the undead court jester of the Underworld. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for. When this is over, I’m spending a whole flipping year on a beach drinking cocktails. Although he wasn’t sure if those cocktails would be made of alcohol or blood.
Loki le
nt him a sword to stand in for Surt’s, and it was with some bitterness that they re-enacted Akhen storming into their campfire, deviating from the truth by skipping the whole Ava-gave-us-a-plan-to-save-the-world bit. ‘And that’s when Akhen sent us back to you.’ Menelaus sneered, as if he was furious about the whole thing.
The crowd jeered and clapped, and Rosalia and Menelaus took a bow, relieved when Loki announced it was time to feast.
‘Congratulations, you two, that was some performance,’ Persephone said as the guests began devouring the remaining food. Menelaus smelled blood as a servant poured a drink from a jug and took it to Loki.
‘Thank you, Your Highness,’ Rosalia said.
‘Menelaus, tell me again how that little dwarf tricked you into rescuing him…’ She took his elbow and pulled him into the corner before lowering her voice. ‘What now?’
‘We need a distraction,’ he said. ‘The Craven is chained up somewhere.’
‘The north tower,’ she said.
‘I need you to release it.’
Her face went white. ‘That won’t be easy. It’s guarded.’
‘You’re the Queen, right?’ She nodded. ‘Then tell them Loki sent you to check on him. I’m presuming he’s got the key to unlock the chains?’
Persephone shook her head. ‘This is my husband’s residence. For every key, he has a spare.’
A servant passed nearby. ‘Well, that’s quite hilarious!’ Persephone said. ‘Bested by a dwarf!’ And then she left him, seeing to the guests for long enough that her sudden exit wouldn’t be attributed to him.
He waited in agony when she slipped out, answering the questions of the other guests, while Rosalia wangled some more blood for him, stuffing her face at the same time. Come on, Sepho.
The door burst open and Persephone came flying in. ‘Oh, Loki! It’s just terrible! There must have been a weak link! The Craven has escaped and eaten the hearts of his guards!’ Her gown was stained in blood. ‘I heard the commotion and it was so dreadful. I only just managed to escape down the servant’s staircase before it plucked out mine too!’
Now that’s a performance, Menelaus thought.
Loki upturned the main buffet table, shoved Persephone aside, and stormed out of the room, Hel abandoning her throne to hurry after him. At bloody last. An opening.
Rosalia rushed over and helped Persephone to her feet. ‘Keep them away from Hel’s weaving room,’ she whispered. The goddess nodded, smoothing out her dress as the Craven flew past the window.
‘It’s this way,’ Rosalia said, taking a sharp turn down yet another steep passage.
‘I’m getting really sick of being underground,’ Menelaus replied, ‘but I’m glad we’re not outside for Loki to spot us either.’
They reached a stone wall – a dead end. Menelaus halted. Maybe he could smash through it if he really tried.
Rosalia kept going and walked through it instead. Having a half-sister who’d spent most of her existence in the Underworld was turning out to be a bit of a perk. ‘Come on,’ her voice called from the other side of the wall.
He ran at it, disappointed it didn’t have ‘Platform 9 3/4s’ mounted next to it on a plaque. By the time he popped out the other side, Rosalia was already halfway down the spiral staircase. ‘Seems a long way to travel just to weave,’ Menelaus said as they reached the bottom. ‘How exactly does Hel get the souls anyway?’ He glanced at the iron gate – the locked iron gate.
‘I think we’re about to find out,’ Rosalia said, taking a key out of her satchel. ‘Persephone slipped it to me,’ she added, by way of explanation.
The lock opened and they crept down the narrow tunnel.
Hel’s weaving room was in fact a full-on dungeon with a walled well in the centre, and true to her nickname, the Black Widow’s nets and threads hung like spiderwebs from a multitude of hooks and within the shadowy angles of the walls.
‘Be careful not to touch anything,’ Rosalia said as he got too close to the golden-spun tapestry hanging on their right. As it begun to shimmer, a tickle ran up his neck.
He whipped round and found sticky strands reaching for him from the wall. ‘Feelers,’ Rosalia said, drawing him away. ‘We won’t have long before Hel senses the intrusion.’
They tiptoed around the dungeon, searching for Hel’s net of souls, meeting at the well. Menelaus covered his nose. ‘The water down there stinks.’
‘I don’t think it’s water,’ she said. ‘It’s death. Any luck?’
‘Can’t see it.’ Menelaus folded his arms and sighed, leaning against the well’s brick wall. He looked up at the vaulted ceiling. Flashes of blue scattered through the darkness from one side of the dungeon to the other, colliding together in the middle. ‘Huh.’
‘What?’
‘It’s up there.’
Rosalia circled the dungeon again. ‘No pulleys. She must use magic.’
‘Then I’ll climb up and cut Nefertiti’s heart out.’
‘The walls are covered in feelers. The second you touch them Hel will—’
Menelaus veered back, took a running jump, and sailed up to the net, yanking on the strands. ‘It’s not moving,’ he shouted down. ‘Feels like it’ll take my weight.’
He used the thick strands as monkey bars to get to the edge of the net and swing himself onto the top, standing up slowly. Please don’t break. Please don’t break.
‘Are you okay?’ Rosalia called.
‘Ask me in a few minutes.’ He followed the path of the blue flashes, glad he couldn’t see the net in great detail this far from the torchlight. When he located the pulsing soul at the web’s centre, he knelt down and touched the threads surrounding it. Human hair and Vital Essence. Menelaus knew somewhere Hel had woven in some of his too.
‘Menelaus, I can hear footsteps through the vent. Hurry.’
He breathed deep and closed his eyes. Dear All Father, Thor, and Sif. Please send me Ava’s gift. And I would appreciate some help escaping Helheim afterwards.
‘It is done.’
Menelaus froze as the disembodied voice spoke above his head. Then he felt a heavy weight in his right hand – Sif’s golden scissors. Far below, Rosalia was busy pushing furniture in front of the door. ‘Whoever’s coming is getting close!’
He supported Nefertiti’s heart by placing his hand through the gaps underneath it and began carefully snipping the arteries. His hands shook. Snip. Snip. Snip.
The net disintegrated and he fell to the ground, scissors in one hand, Nefertiti’s soul in the other. He hit just as Rosalia’s barrier gave out and Hel scuttled into the room with a scream.
Menelaus landed in a crouch. Hel struck Rosalia and sent her flying towards the well. Menelaus sprang into the air and caught her before she tipped over the edge.
‘You!’ Hel hissed, extending a long knitting needle in his direction. ‘You will pay for this!’ She ran towards them.
Rosalia plucked the golden scissors from his hand and lobbed them at Hel’s face. They lodged handle-deep between the eyes. Hel screamed, clawing at her head.
‘I don’t think that’s enough to kill her,’ Menelaus said. He grabbed his sister around the waist and bounded over Hel, glancing back to see the scissors dissolving as Hel ripped them out, dark blood pouring down her face; apparently, Sif’s gift was more of a loan.
Hel flew towards them but Rosalia locked her inside the dungeon just in time. ‘Put Nefertiti in the box,’ she said. Menelaus obeyed and she tucked it back into her satchel, along with the key.
‘I will spin your guts!’ Hel screamed, curling her fingers around the bars. ‘I will rip out your tongue and…’
Hel turned around as the cloud of souls she had entrapped in her great net for centuries cut through the dungeon, descending upon her like vicious bats, their screams of agony becoming hers.
Menelaus tore his eyes away. ‘Let’s get the Hel out of here,’ he said.
When they surfaced from the underground passage, Persephone was waiting for them. ‘Ha
ve you got it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Follow me.’
They ran onto the open plain and Persephone cupped her hands around her mouth. ‘Dorian! Dorian! Come to mother!’
‘What the heck is she doing?’ Menelaus said, nudging his sister. Maybe they’d been wrong to trust a delusional goddess, no matter how poor their options.
Persephone jumped up and down and waved her hands in the air as the Craven swooped over the plain and landed in the dirt. ‘Here, boy,’ she said. ‘Remember how I freed you? Now can you free us?’
The Craven thrust his beak towards her.
And bowed his head. She climbed onto his back. Menelaus didn’t need asking. He helped Rosalia up and took up position behind her.
‘Fly, my pretty little bird,’ Persephone said, hugging the Craven around his neck.
‘Sepho! Wait!’ Hades came flying over, Loki not far behind him, eyes blazing green fire.
Persephone blew her husband a kiss. ‘I’m sorry, my love. I’ve been imprisoned long enough. Go, Dorian!’
The Craven stretched out his wings and soared into the sky, leaving the gods of the Underworld in a cloud of red dust.
42
Maze of Memory: Part Two
I run into Mum’s arms and she squeezes me tight. I take her and Lolita’s hands as Ava catches up with us at the gate. ‘School’s out for summer!’
‘School’s out forEVER!’ Ava shouts and we both laugh.
‘Until September anyway,’ Mum says, crushing our dreams. ‘But that gives us six weeks to stuff our faces with ice cream and redesign Hellingstead Hall in sand-form on the beach.’
Ava and I high-five and Mum drives us all home. Dad is cooking but his meals aren’t as good as Uncle Nikolaj’s, who is currently in Elf Land. I want to go there for summer but Father tells me it’s not allowed.
Wrath of Aten Page 21
