Odin's Ravens (The Blackwell Pages)

by K. L. Armstrong

  “Who—?” Matt began.

  “His name is Vance,” Laurie said. “He’s a Berserker. They’re like Owen’s personal army. They’re going to escort us out of here.” She cast a worried look up at his grandfather. “Hopefully without any trouble.”

  Matt shook his head. “I’ve explained things to Granddad. He understands. He’s going to help—”

  “Help you find Mjölnir?” the Berserker said. “Is that what I heard? I don’t think you want him doing that. In fact, I’m pretty sure you don’t. Come on, Matt. Let’s get you out of here.”

  Matt looked at Laurie. She nodded, her eyes imploring him to come and come quickly. Behind her, he could see Fen and Baldwin and when he leaned to see them, their faces urged him out, too.

  “You’ve had your chat with your grandson, old man,” the Berserker said. “Now we need to have ours. About you.” He paused and gave a humorless grin. “Or do you want to be the one to break it to him?”

  “Break what to me?” Matt said.

  He looked over. His grandfather’s face was expressionless. One big hand reached for Matt, but Matt stumbled back.

  “Break what to me?”

  Another teenage guy raced in, pushing forward to stand by the other one. “Vance,” he said, “we’ve got trouble. He must have called in reinforcements.”

  “Who?” Matt said.

  The new guy motioned at Matt’s grandfather. “He didn’t want a chat with Thor’s champion. He wanted time for his troops to arrive. We’re surrounded.”

  “Troops?” Matt said. “What troops?” He paused. “You mean the Thorsens?”

  When no one answered, Matt raced out the door, pushing past Vance and Laurie, past Rusty, standing in the next room, surrounded by Berserkers. He ran to the nearest window and looked out. There were kids out there. Dozens of kids, brandishing sticks and knives. And wolves. There were wolves.

  Matt remembered what he’d told Astrid: that he thought someone else was in charge of the monsters. Someone leading Skull and the Raiders. Matt had wanted to question a captured Raider, but the guy had escaped. So Matt never got his answer.

  He had it now. He knew who was leading the enemy team. His grandfather.

  THIRTEEN

  MATT

  “THE SERPENT RISES”

  Matt turned from the window. The cabin was packed with Berserkers, but he didn’t notice anything more than that they were in his way and he had to step to the side to see his grandfather.

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  Granddad didn’t seem to notice the Berserkers, either. Or he didn’t care. He was in a room with at least fifteen legendary fighters against him and Rusty, and he didn’t bat an eye. He just walked forward as if they were alone.

  “I don’t understand,” Matt said. “I just don’t—” He stopped himself. He sounded stupid, repeating the same thing, but that was all he heard, looping through his head.

  He’d just discovered that his grandfather was in charge of the Raiders. The Raiders. Which meant he was in charge of Astrid and all the forces that would align against him and Fen and Laurie at Ragnarök.

  That was not possible. A Thorsen, leading the monsters. Leading them against Thor’s champion. Leading them against Matt, his grandson.

  I do not understand.

  Somehow this was worse than at the community center, hearing that his grandfather expected him to die.

  No, not somehow. Matt knew why it was worse. Because at least before, as much as it hurt, he’d trusted that his grandfather believed he had no choice. Believed Matt would die. Believed it was for the best. For the Thorsens. For Blackwell.

  But this? This?

  “Blackwell,” he said finally. “The Thorsens. All the Thorsens. Our town. You’re going to let them—”

  “Let them live,” Granddad said, still walking toward him. “Help them live. Lead them into a new world. A better world. Everything I said is true, Matt. You can’t win this. They”—he motioned at the Raiders beyond the window—“they can’t win this. I’m not choosing a side. I’m on yours, and I’m on theirs. Ragnarök will come, and no one will win the battle. Both sets of champions will die—for a better world. A reborn world. Yes, most people will perish, and that’s a terrible tragedy. But the Thorsens will live on, under my leadership. The Raiders will help. They’ve trained for this for generations. Trained to survive anything. Even the end of the world. They’ll teach us that.”

  “And me?”

  His grandfather hesitated. “I still hope to save you, Matt. If there is a way—”

  “Liar!” Matt roared. The word came out as loud as thunder, blasting against his skull and echoing through the room, and some of the Berserkers stumbled back, as if he’d hit them with his Hammer.

  Granddad didn’t even blink. “Matty, you need to calm—”

  “Calm down? You lied. You’re lying now. You’ve been lying to me my entire life!”

  He advanced on his grandfather. As he did, he was shaking so hard it seemed as if the floor quavered under his feet. He felt something on his cheeks, something hot and wet, and he realized they were tears, and shame shot through him, and the shame fed the rage, whirling in his gut, his Hammer burning so hot it hurt, his head hurting, too, pounding, the rage building.

  His grandfather stood his ground, his face hardening. “Matthew—”

  “Your favorite grandson? Your favorite sacrifice. That’s what I am. The one stupid enough to fall for it.”

  “No, Matt, that’s not true. You are my fav—”

  “Liar!” Matt screamed, and he felt the Hammer fly from him. He didn’t even need to reach out his hand. The wave of energy seemed to shoot from his entire body with a blinding flash and a deafening crack.

  The Hammer hit his grandfather like a lightning bolt, sending him flying into the wall, the Berserkers scrambling out of the way, some knocked down by the reverberation.

  The floor shook beneath Matt’s feet.

  Not the floor. I’m shaking. Because of him. Of what he did.

  Rage whipped through him, and he swore he heard it crackle, swore he saw blue sparks flying off his skin. He kept going, advancing on his grandfather, now on the floor.

  “You lied—”

  Granddad leaped up and threw his own Hammer, knocking Matt back a step. “Matthew Robert Thorsen,” he said, his voice low, his face hard. “You calm down right now or—”

  “Or what?” Matt said. “You’ll sacrifice me to a giant serpent?”

  He roared the last word, and when he did, he heard another crack and he felt the floor shake. Around him, Berserkers stumbled and grabbed walls, their eyes going wide.

  “Um, guys?” Baldwin said.

  Matt dimly saw Baldwin pointing at something, but he kept moving forward. His grandfather was on his feet, braced, his blue eyes blazing, fingers out.

  “Are you going to take me down?” Matt said. “Throw your Hammer? Teach me a lesson?”

  “No, Matt. I would never hurt—”

  “You already did!”

  The cabin rumbled all around them, like thunder rolling through.

  “Matt!”

  It was Laurie, grabbing his arm. He shook her off, but she caught him again, directing his attention up to a crack in the wall, daylight shining through it.

  Why is there a crack…?

  The floor slammed up into his feet, setting him staggering forward, and when he turned, he was staring at a floorboard, popped straight up now and cracked right in half, splintered ends still quivering. As he stared, another board shot up, ripping free, nails flying. Then another and another—

  “Everyone out!” Vance shouted.

  Matt didn’t move. He stood there, watching the floorboards burst and fly free, as if something was under them, pushing up, pushing free—

  Fen grabbed his arm. “Move it, Thorsen! This place is going to—”

  A thunderous crack, right under their feet, boards giving way. His grandfather raced out the door. Fen yanked Mat
t, dragging him across the room as the boards collapsed behind them, dropping into—

  A hole. The boards were dropping into a hole. A gaping crater, opening up right under—

  “Out!” Matt shouted, twisting and pushing Fen toward the door. “Everyone out now!”

  Most were already running, but a few of the younger Berserkers just stood there, staring in horror as the floor vanished under their feet. The older ones realized they weren’t following and began dragging them out. As Matt pushed one to safety, he heard another crack and looked up to see the fissure in the wall zooming down it, like a giant zipper opening, the cabin breaking in two, beams falling from the roof.

  “Thorsen!” Fen shouted. “Get your—”

  Boards crashed onto the floor, cutting Fen short. Matt looked around, but all he could see was debris falling and dust flying up and the cabin collapsing. He started for the door.

  “Baldwin!” he heard Fen shout. “Where’s—?”

  Again, the thunderous chaos cut him short. Matt turned, blinking and peering into the dust until…

  He saw Baldwin across the cabin. Standing against the wall. Matt raced over to him as the floor continued giving way. He made it across, and as the swirling dirt cleared for a second, he could see Baldwin staring into the abyss growing at their feet.

  “There’s something down there,” Baldwin whispered.

  Matt turned. The hole was still growing, but slowly now. At first, that’s all he saw—the hole. It was almost as big as the cabin floor, a dark pit with pipes and roots sticking out like quills, leading down into darkness. Endless darkness.

  A dank, sour smell wafted up, and from the depths he could hear a strange dry, whispery sound.

  “We need to go,” he said.

  “No, I saw something,” Baldwin said. “There’s—”

  The earth shook and dirt rained down from the sides of the hole, and for a moment that was all Matt saw, but then the dirt cleared and—

  Something flashed in the dark depths. Something long and pale, twisting in and out of sight so fast that Matt caught only a glimpse. He kept staring, but that was it. A single glimpse of—

  The ground shook again and a smell billowed out, a horrible rank stink that made him reel back. The dirt rained again and the thing appeared again, and this time Matt saw it. He saw scales, huge scales on a huge body, twisting and roiling in the hole, rasping against the roots, the earth shaking as it moved. He saw that, and he knew what it was.

  “The serpent,” he whispered. “I woke the—”

  The floor bucked under their feet, the serpent bucking under the earth, the floorboards screaming as they tore free, leaping up like matchsticks as huge chunks of earth fell into the hole. As the hole grew. Right under their feet.

  “Let’s go!”

  Matt shouted to be heard over the noise. He twisted to go back the way he came, and as he did, the floor crumbled into the void. The entire strip disappeared, right up to the wall, swallowing their escape route. Matt swung around to go out the other way, but the floor was already gone.

  They were standing on two boards. Two remaining boards. Trapped between the hole and the wall. As the Midgard Serpent twisted and roiled and set the earth trembling, set the earth crumbling, right under their feet. Everything around them fell into a gaping hole, and them with it.

  FOURTEEN

  FEN

  “WHEN GOATS ATTACK”

  Fen and Laurie had escaped the collapsing house. Fen looked back at it: pieces of wood and stone were jutted up at odd angles, and the air was cloudy from the dust and dirt that had been stirred by the fall. It isn’t a complete catastrophe, he thought. The house was, but the situation was better than he’d expected. He paused. When houses falling through the earth is a better outcome, what does that mean? He shook his head and continued surveying the wreckage.

  The Berserkers—Owen’s little personal army—had begun fighting against the Raiders. Individuals and small groups were fighting all around the newly created cavern in the ground. Mayor Thorsen and the hunter seemed to be standing back. The hunter had his gun held out, and he stood like a guard protecting the mayor.

  “Baldwin,” Fen said, scanning the crowd as best he could with the dirt-thick air obscuring everything. “Where’s Baldwin?”

  Laurie shook her head. “I don’t know. Where’s Matt?”

  An uneasy weight settled on Fen. They’d just rescued Baldwin from Hel, and they’d just pulled Matt out of the river of zombie stew. Now both boys were missing again. Fen was awfully glad he hadn’t gone to jail, but this wasn’t any better.

  “How are we to even get to the battle at the end of the world if everyone keeps getting injured, dying, or going missing?” Fen grumbled. He gave his cousin a warning glare and ordered, “Stay with me.”

  “Obviously,” she said with an eye roll.

  “Thorsen! Where are you?” He dodged a punch from a Raider still in human form, and then he spared a grin as a Berserker tackled the Raider in some sort of running flip-kick move. They had such an odd fighting style; it was like martial arts meets extreme sports meets parkour.

  The Berserkers were keeping a perimeter of sorts around the house, giving the descendants of the North space to get out of the wreckage. From the looks of the Berserkers who unexpectedly went flying, Mayor Thorsen was doing much the same with his amulet. Both sides of the fight were keeping the other from getting too close to the crater where the house had been.

  Fen was surprised that the mayor didn’t stop them as he and Laurie went toward the hole, where he assumed Matt still was. He wished he had something like Matt’s Hammer or Laurie’s bow or Ray and Reyna’s magic. If the mayor used his Hammer against Fen and Laurie, they were defenseless. Maybe Mayor Thorsen didn’t know where they were headed, or maybe he wanted someone to rescue Matt… which made sense but was also a little weird.

  As Fen and Laurie eased closer to the crater, he could see Baldwin and Matt standing on a ledge in the ruins of the house. Beneath them was a gaping darkness.

  “Don’t move,” Fen called.

  Matt said, “Believe me, I don’t intend to.”

  Baldwin, on the other hand, replied, “We have to unless we want to go down to whatever monster is in the hole.”

  Almost as if he couldn’t resist looking into the darkness, Matt dropped his gaze. His face was tight, and he swallowed visibly. All he said, though, was, “Baldwin says he brought your bags. Maybe something useful will appear in them.”

  “They’re over by the tree, under a hedge of some sort. Yellow flowers, I think,” Baldwin offered helpfully.

  Fen had a general idea of where Baldwin meant. Unfortunately, it was on the other side of a brawl. The air wasn’t clearing very quickly, so a gray haze hung like a gritty fog all around them. “Of course the bags are over there,” he muttered.

  Laurie and Fen exchanged a look.

  “Maybe there are ropes or vines or something over here,” Laurie said as she started to pace away from Fen.

  He grabbed her forearm.

  He stomped his foot a little, testing the ground. “This seems stable-ish. Stay here. Right here.”

  “So the plan is that I hope I don’t fall to my doom while you face a pack of wolves?” Laurie muttered.

  “Pretty much.”

  Matt’s voice came from the hole in the ground. “Umm… guys? Not to rush you, but…”

  When Fen looked down again, he could see how exhausted and haggard Matt looked. He’d been through a lot. They all had. Of course, poor Matt had been drugged, and he’d just gotten the shock of discovering that his family wasn’t as perfect as he’d thought. Not only did the old man think that it was fine for Matt to get eaten by a snake, he also seemed to be working with the Raiders. Fen’s own relatives weren’t looking quite as bad in comparison. On the other hand, a lot of the Raiders who were here fighting for the mayor were also Fen’s relatives. Not everyone in a family was always good, but the descendants of the North—his friends, the hero
es—were good. Fen wasn’t going to let them down the way their families had let him and Matt down.

  “Keep him safe,” Fen told Baldwin.

  And then he was shifting into another form, a furrier one capable of darting through the crowd. With a happy growl, Fen realized that his transformation was faster than it had been before visiting Hel. It wasn’t quite as instantaneous as it had been in Helen’s domain, but it was faster than that of any wulfenkind he knew.

  Unfortunately, once he was a wolf, he was just… himself. He didn’t seem to have any extra speed or sharper teeth. He was just Fen. He was quickly intercepted by an almost-white wolf. It was Hattie, Skull’s sister and second-in-command of his pack. She offered what looked like a menacing smile. It wasn’t, not really, but the brain inside Fen was still human, and his human mind translated the wolf expression to the human words.

  Fen growled and pulled his lips back, baring his teeth at her.

  Hattie didn’t seem to have even noticed. He was going to have to charge her; it was the only way he could see to get past her and to the bags. Hopefully, whatever magic had made the bags deliver up clothes and sandwiches would also deliver up ropes to use to pull Matt and Baldwin up to safety.

  Fen threw himself at Hattie. It wasn’t a graceful tackle, but fighting wasn’t about points and prettiness. It was about ferocity. That’s why Fen couldn’t ever do the wrestling or boxing stuff Matt did. It was too orderly. Fen fought because he had to, and his only trophies were bragging rights and survival.

  As Fen landed half atop Hattie, she threw herself to the side, dislodging him after a few moments of him somewhat precariously clinging to her fur. He didn’t even have his feet under him before she spun and tried for his throat. It was a predictable move, though, and he darted away.

  Hattie stalked toward him, not attacking but intimidating. She moved steadily closer, feinting bites that were only to frighten, not to hurt—at least not yet. She’d always liked to play with her kills. It was a cruel tendency that was far more human than wolf.